Chapter Text
“My apologies.”
Goro blinks numbly at his armful of books and parchment, now scattered on the floor at his feet. The person he ran into quickly kneels down, ducking his dark, tousled head as he begins to gather the fallen books.
“Ah–” Goro jerks slightly and drops to the floor as well, reaching for a roll of paper. “There’s no need. I wasn’t watching the path.”
A low chuckle and a pale hand extends to carefully retrieve Goro’s pen, the delicate swirled glass thankfully unbroken. “How could you with all of this stacked in your arms?”
“No, no, I should have–” Goro looks up, hastily compiling his materials in front of him, and finds himself met with a piercing silver gaze. “Been paying attention.”
The unfamiliar young man collects the books in his arms and stands, offering Goro a hand up. After a second of dumb staring, Goro accepts, allowing the stranger to pull him to his feet. He’s wearing gloves, of course, so it’s fine. As he adjusts his grip on his scrolls, he scans the boy curiously. He’s about Goro’s height with wild black hair and a neat page’s uniform. He balances all of Goro’s books with ease and, once Goro is upright, passes his pen over casually.
“Thank you,” Goro says, taking the pen and tucking it behind his ear for the time being. The boy’s strange eyes follow the movement. “I’ll take those back as well,” he gestures to the books.
“I can carry them for you,” the boy offers. “Where are you headed?”
“That’s not necessary–”
“It’s no trouble,” the boy insists.
Goro grits his teeth behind his smile. “Very well, then. I’m on my way to the Archives.”
The boy’s lips curl up at the corners. “How fortunate! I am as well.”
Goro casts a pointed look around the open-air corridor. “You were headed the opposite direction.”
“Yes, well–” Looking a little sheepish, the boy tugs on one of his errant curls. “I’m unfamiliar with the Palace. I’m actually quite lost.”
Laughing would be mean, so Goro doesn’t, but it’s a near thing. He clears his throat. “Follow me, then,” he says pleasantly, resuming his path with quick, efficient steps.
The boy falls in line easily. “My hero,” he smiles. “I’m lucky to have met you.”
“Perhaps we could have done without crashing into each other,” Goro mumbles.
The boy chuckles. “We must both have a lot on our minds.”
These days, who doesn’t? Goro glances out at the courtyard and finds it empty of the usual sunning and frolicing Fae folk. Surely, the Grand Lawn will still be bustling with activity, but smaller annexes like this have grown quieter and quieter over the past few weeks. The Summer Court is still bright, still festive, still ringing with music and laughter, but it’s strained. And people are starting to notice.
“You said you’re new here,” Goro says, shaking his head free of dark thoughts. “Are you a new archival assistant?”
“No, sir,” the boy shoots him a canny look. “I’ve come to study under a member of the Royal Court.”
Goro raises his eyebrows as they round a corner and enter a stone corridor leading to an enormous set of stained glass double doors. “Indeed? Someone as young as yourself–you must be very impressive.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m nothing of the sort.” Before Goro can reach for the door handle, the boy hurries ahead and grasps it himself, pulling the ornate door open with ease. “After you.”
Goro smiles in thanks and regards him suspiciously from the corner of his eye as he sweeps past.
The main section of the Archives is huge and airy, ceiling soaring high above them and glittering with stained glass murals of mythological events. The walls are lined with clear glass windows, many of them open to allow in the sweet-scented breeze. Short bookshelves populate the space, stocked with recent records and current events, while the older records are stored in the labyrinthine back hallways and rooms that snake away from the main section. Goro spends a lot of time in here for work.
As does Sae Nijiima, who starts gesturing him over to her table as soon as he enters. She’s sitting across from a familiar figure, who stands as Goro approaches, the mysterious boy following closely behind.
“My prince,” Count Yoshida greets respectfully, bowing as Goro deposits his scrolls in front of Sae.
“Count Yoshida,” Goro returns, dipping his head before turning to the boy and retrieving his books. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned.” Indeed, the Lower Court has barely known a day of reason since Yoshida went to visit the Outlands.
“And I am glad to be back.” Yoshida glances between Goro and the boy behind him, eyebrows raised. “I see you have already met my newest acquaintance.”
Goro blinks, nearly losing his grip on the books, and turns to the boy, who smiles back placidly. When he said he was studying under someone in the Court, Goro never considered it would be Yoshida, one of the few nobles he can actually stand. Yoshida never takes pages. Even his hired staff is small compared to most of his colleagues’. “I’m afraid we haven’t been officially introduced,” he says awkwardly, settling the books on the table.
“Yes, we simply ran into each other on the way here,” the boy agrees before bowing low. “My name is Akira Kurusu, page to Duke Yoshida.” He straightens and fixes that avid grey stare on Goro again. “I apologize for any disrespect. I didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”
Goro can’t tell if he’s lying. He seems earnest, but everyone with even a passing connection to the Summer Court knows who Goro is. Archduke Shido’s pity project. But if Yoshida picked him up in the Outlands, perhaps…. “There was no disrespect. I am Goro Akechi, adopted son of Archduke Masayoshi Shido. Prince is merely an...affectionate nickname within the court. In truth, I hold no title.”
“I see.” Akira’s eyes glitter in the light from the windows. “Then I hope you won’t mind if I call you that as well, my prince.”
Goro blinks. “I...don’t mind.”
“Akechi–” Sae speaks up, sounding irritated. “The Dawn Ordinances, they’re not all–”
“Here, Counselor Sae–” Goro turns away from Akira’s intense gaze to present one of the scrolls to Sae. “The amendments were filed separately, and this one was made into its own Ordinance two years ago.”
She nods, spreading the scroll out in front of her and scribbling away. As a junior member of the Counsel, the primary law-making body of the Seelie Kingdom, Sae is always busy researching, compiling, and debating with her fellow Counselors. Goro helps her out and, in exchange, she teaches him the intricacies of the Court and connects him to valuable resources. Even if the day he might become a member of the Court is a long way off, Goro wants to be absolutely prepared.
At least, that’s what he tells Sae.
“I came by because I wanted to introduce my new protege to Counselor Sae,” Yoshida explains quietly, “but we can come back when she’s not so busy.”
“No, it’s fine.” Sae makes a mark and sets her pen aside, rising fluidly. Her smile is professional but kind as she inclines her head to Akira. “I am Sae Niijima, member of the Counsel of the Summer Court. It’s always a pleasure to meet Duke Yoshida’s associates. He doesn’t accept students often, so count yourself lucky.”
“I do, Counselor,” Akira responds, bowing back. “I am Akira Kurusu. I’m honored to meet you.”
In general, Counselors keep to themselves, locked away in their towers, gathering knowledge, until forced to venture out for Counsel sessions or official events. Sae, with her beauty and penchant for mingling with the common folk, has something of a reputation as the idol of the Counsel. Surely Akira has heard of her since arriving at the court.
“I’ve already met your sister,” Akira continues.
Makoto Niijima, Sae’s younger sister and only family, is Goro’s age and apprenticed to a member of the Upper Court, training for a career in politics. Goro doesn’t see her much. He has the strangest inkling that she doesn’t like him.
“We always need more young people in the court,” Sae says. “Fae live a long time, but not forever.”
“Indeed, Counselor,” Yoshida agrees heartily. “And Akira is incredibly sharp. Expect wonderful things from him.”
Goro watches Akira carefully, but he doesn’t squirm under the praise, merely clasps his hands behind his back and bows his head deferentially to Yoshida. As though he can sense Goro looking at him, he glances up, and Goro turns away, cursing himself as soon as he does.
“We’ll leave you to your work, Counselor,” Yoshida finishes up. He bows again to the both of them. “My prince.”
Sae and Goro lower their heads in farewell as Yoshida leads Akira out of the archives. Goro watches the back of Akira’s head until the door closes, obscuring him.
“Sit down,” Sae orders briskly, getting back to her notes. “This proposal needs to be airtight by morning.”
Goro takes his place across from her and gets to work, pushing thoughts of Yoshida’s new page from his mind in favor of dates and legal minutiae.
Night falls properly only every four weeks in the Seelie lands. For twelve uninterrupted hours, the suns dip completely below the horizon, allowing the sky to finally darken completely instead of the vibrant twilight that signifies the rest period for the remainder of the month. The absence of the suns is very dangerous for Seelie folk, so, since time immemorial, the Lantern Banquet has been held every month to offset the True Night.
Every Seelie settlement participates in the monthly banquet, but none to the extent of the Summer Court itself. The Lantern Banquet is an unfailingly lavish affair, fairy lights in prismatic colors decorating every corner, floating over everyone’s heads in a sea of illumination. The Upper Nobles take turns hosting the monthly event, each trying to outdo each other in terms of food and entertainment. Music, dancing, and general carousing are staples at every Banquet, and every member of the court is invited. The capital city has its own Banquet, but the festivities within the Summer Court itself are legendary.
Goro goes to every single one and hates every single minute of it.
His presence it necessary. Not only is he the precious adopted son of the wildly popular Archduke, but he’s well-known in the court for his good looks and polite attitude. People expect to see him. People think he has a good time cavorting with them. He can’t afford for them to know the truth.
His father attends as well and revels in the debauchery, in the attention lavished upon him. Goro avoids him whenever possible.
Tonight is no exception.
The suns are gone, leaving the sky a deep indigo jewelled with tiny stars, but the sight is almost completely blocked by the ceiling of glowing lanterns hovering above them. The Grand Lawn is a riot of color, Fae milling about in eye-catching outfits, fountains spraying patterns of glittering water, long tables laden with elaborate food displays.
In the center of the festivities, a dance troupe twirls and leaps expertly, pulling people up to dance every so often. The dancers are draped in revealing gauze costumes, bodies painted with glittering powder, anklets jangling rhythmically in time to the lively music. The gathered audience looks on with undisguised desire.
Goro hangs back from the activity, sitting primly at a small table and chatting amiably with anyone who passes by, mentally going over budget sheets. Sae wandered off at some point or another, arguing vehemently with another Counselor about something work-related. Every once in a while, Goro spies Makoto through the crowd, usually alongside Duke Okamura’s daughter.
Haru Okumura holds no title, but she’s an important figure in the court, a potentially valuable asset to anyone wishing to get in good with a duke. Goro tries to stay out of that drama.
Interestingly enough, Goro has seen Akira a couple of times, trailing after Yoshida. Yoshida doesn’t always attend the Banquets, but he apparently wanted to introduce his young protege and decided to brave the rambunctious party.
Akira is hard to miss, his dark hair and distinctive slouch giving him away against the sea of ornately decorated Fae officials. Seelie Fae can have dark hair, as evidenced by Makoto’s brunette bob, but rarely does Goro see such a deep black.
He catches himself glancing up for a glimpse of the sunless sky between the floating lanterns.
Akira’s eyes are unusual as well, but his uniqueness is apparently working in his favor as he’s quickly surrounded by tittering young female pages. When a girl in a tight lilac dress slips her arm into Akira’s, Goro pushes himself to his feet to go get some food.
He returns to his table to find it occupied.
“Good evening, my prince,” Ann smiles beguilingly, crossing her long legs in such a way that the trailing fabric of her dance costume flutters to the side, exposing her thighs. Her long blond hair is styled intricately atop her head, glittering with pins and little bells. “It’s been a while.” She bats her eyelashes theatrically, makeup shining in the lantern light.
“Indeed it has,” Goro smiles back at her, relieved. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”
She laughs genuinely, the sound a little nasally compared to her sultry dancer voice. “I missed you, Goro!” she launches herself to her feet and wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing just a bit too hard. “I worried about you all during the tour!”
“Worried about me?” Goro hugs her back with one arm, using the other to balance his plate. “Why?”
“Why not?” she pulls back, eyes sparkling. “I can’t bear to think of you all alone in this place!”
“I’m hardly alone,” Goro protests, leading her back to the table.
“Oh, those people you work with don’t count,” Ann says dismissively, settling back down with much less seduction than before. She grabs a pastry from the plate Goro offers her and stuffs it whole into her mouth. “You need friends who won’t sell you for the right price,” she continues, voice muffled and crumbs dropping to the table.
“I’m doing just fine, Ann,” Goro says, propping his chin in his hand and watching her tuck in.
Ann Takamaki is a Fae of uncommon beauty. Slender and graceful with a head of radiant blonde hair, she caught the eye of a lecherous minor official in the Summer Court while attending the capital’s prestigious dance school. Goro helped her out of a nasty situation and she declared herself his best friend. She’s currently the headliner of one of the kingdom’s most popular dance troupes and while she travels often, the troupe frequently returns for events in the capital. Goro usually follows her circuit pretty faithfully, but he must have lost track recently, with everything else going on.
“You are not,” she says firmly. “Look at those shadows.” Reaching across the table, she prods the area under Goro’s left eye with one manicured nail. “I bet Sae has you running around like a pixie at dawn. I won’t have it. Your looks are all you have going for you.”
Goro laughs, catching her hand in his and giving it a placating pat. “No, it’s not Sae, I swear. We’re all busy at the moment.” He feels his expression droop, remembering why they’re so busy these days.
Ann tilts her head before her eyes darken in understanding. “Right.” Her fingers twitch in Goro’s grasp, curling around his hand in response. Her skin is warm through the thin leather of his glove. “I guess everyone does look more tired than usual. Even Makoto and Haru seem stressed.”
“Everyone’s trying to pretend they’re not worried,” Goro says lowly. “But there have been three cases in the capital now. It’s impossible to ignore.”
“I saw a lot of it on tour,” Ann responds, leaning forward slightly to be heard. “Well, I didn’t see it, obviously, but I saw buildings blocked off, even burned down sometimes in the outlands.”
Goro frowns. He knew it was getting bad, but hearing it firsthand is still unsettling. “You should stay here for a while.”
“Yeah, the Palace event coordinator wants us in residence for a while.” She smiles. “So I’ll be here if you need something, my prince.”
Goro blinks. “Need something?”
Giving his hand one last squeeze, Ann leans back in her chair. “Don’t play dumb. I’m not blind, Goro.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I saw you!” She snags a few pins out of her hair, letting several locks fall down over her tapered ears. “Staring at tall, dark, and handsome over there!”
Instantly, Goro feels his cheeks heat up. “What are you talking about?” he asks, too quickly.
She laughs obnoxiously, tossing the pins on the table and grabbing a few more. “He’s hard to miss.” To demonstrate, she gestures in the direction of the makeshift dance floor, where Akira is indeed standing out as he twirls with one of the dancers.
Goro can’t help but stare. Akira isn’t an especially proficient dancer, but his dance partner is laughing, clearly having a wonderful time, Akira’s hands steady on her waist even as he stumbles through the steps.
“Like that!”
Ann’s triumphant voice calls him back and he glares at her. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh no I’m not, I know you and I’ve never seen you look like that!” She runs both hands through her loose hair, shaking it out until the big blond curls fall over her shoulders. “I saw you staring at him while I was dancing. Every time I got back to my position, you were still staring.”
Goro furrows his eyebrows. Was he really watching Akira for that long? Who else might have noticed?
“So what’s the deal?” Ann asks, bracing her elbows on the table and leaning forward, nosy as always.
“There’s no deal,” Goro answers. “He’s Count Yoshida’s new page and that’s all there is to it.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense.”
“Wha–it isn’t–”
“Anyway!” Ann chirps, shooting to her feet. “Let’s dance, your highness!”
Goro gapes at her. “Oh, no, I’m not dressed to dance this time, Ann, I’m just–”
“That’s easy to fix,” she insists, bustling over and tugging him to his feet.
Goro can do little to resist as she pulls at his formal robes. Truthfully, he only planned to attend the Banquet for a few hours before turning in. As long as everyone saw and spoke to him at least once, his continued presence wasn’t required. Shido certainly doesn’t care where he is as long as Goro isn’t embarrassing him.
But as Ann discards his heavy outer robe and ties his hair back with a ribbon stolen from her own costume, he foresees his night ending later than he planned.
Much later, apparently. It’s barely a few hours until dawn when he finally manages to get away. It’s not that he doesn’t like dancing with Ann, but she can keep going and going, blessed with the Arts of Grace and Breath, while Goro’s Arts lie in other areas, none of which are conducive to dancing all night.
Fortunately, he makes it to the Celestial Tower before the suns rise. The Tower is an elaborate tool in the archival complex, fallen into disuse over the past few thousand years. The massive celestial compass used to serve a very specific purpose, but after certain events, and due to the fact that it could only be utilized on True Nights, it was all but abandoned. Goro loves it.
The machinery is outdated and complex, creaking in protest as Goro cranks the huge metal dome open to reveal the rounded window that comprises the top of the tower. The window offers an uninterrupted view of the night sky, velvet blue reaching in all directions, scattered with clusters of glowing stars and punctuated by the gleaming sliver of the moon. The ancient telescope in the middle of the room can be adjusted to point at any specific spot in the sky, which triggers the giant mechanisms lining the tower walls. Ostensibly, you can use the device to find the exact positioning of any star in relation to the stars around it. Seers used to use the information to focus their visions, back when the Seelie still relied on imprecise Arts like Sight. Now they know that no one can predict the future, so the Celestial Tower stands empty most of the time, but every month Goro likes to come up here.
Sometimes he examines the equipment, testing it and making notes. Other times he simply looks at the sky.
Tonight is one of those nights.
Standing beside the telescope, Goro tips his head back and takes in the sea of twinkling lights above him. He loves the sunlight, of course. As a Seelie Fae, he can’t live without it. Darkness is dangerous to his kind, and direct exposure for too long can drain their magical energy, but at times like this, wrapped in soft shadows and blinking in the bare face of the heavens, Goro is almost envious of the Unseelie.
Such thoughts could be considered treason if ever spoken aloud. Mention of the Unseelie Kingdom has been taboo since the Barrier was sealed and the two realms were severed, and that was nearly two thousand years ago now. Very few Fae even remember a time when the realms coexisted. Goro doesn’t, but he’s read stories.
According to legend, the Unseelie are violent and cruel, passing power through murder and consuming Fae blood to grow stronger. Reports of their appearances vary wildly; some describe them as unsettlingly beautiful, others assert that they’re gruesomely hideous. Black eyes that swallow light, sharp claws that rend Seelie skin like paper, hissing voices that can crack glass, the embellishments never end. Some stories claim that they’re darkness incarnate and that’s why they spread the Darkening.
The Darkening: a disease with no discernable contagion factor that slowly saps a Fae’s magic the same way true darkness does. Once the Darkening is contracted, no amount of sunlight or Healing can save you. Several thousand years ago, the king of the Seelie, Yaldaboath, drove the Unseelie from their lands and sealed the barrier between the two realms, completely cutting off all contact between the Seelie and Unseelie Kingdoms, and the Darkening disappeared. Every once in a while, an unlucky soul would contract it, but it was always considered a freak accident. Nature works in mysterious ways, after all. Until recently.
Reports of the Darkening have been increasing in the Outlands, with more coming in every day. Even the capital isn’t safe. The people are getting restless, eager for answers that nobody has and the King has been completely silent on the subject. If the Unseelie were the cause of the Darkening, why is it spreading again now even though the realms are separated?
No one has heard from the Unseelie since the barrier was sealed and that silence, previously a comfort, now rings malicious.
“There you are.”
Goro jumps at the soft voice and whirls around to see a figure rising out of the stairwell in the floor, emerging into the starlit room. Heart suddenly pounding, Goro takes a deep breath. “Akira, you startled me.”
Akira drifts closer, the silvery light of the stars glancing off his dark hair and the glittery paint streaked haphazardly across his face. “Apologies, my prince. I saw you escape the Banquet and my curiosity got the best of me.”
“Escape makes it sound so dramatic.” Goro waves a hand. “I was simply tired.”
“Yes, you danced with that young lady for quite a while.” Akira shoves his hands into his pants pockets, tilting his head as he takes in the room. “No wonder you’re tired.”
“Ann is a friend of mine,” Goro finds himself saying.
Akira looks back at him curiously. “She’s quite beautiful,” he says, and it’s not a question, but his tone still sounds questioning.
Goro blinks. “I could introduce you, if you’re interested,” he offers, confused. Ann had called him handsome, so maybe–
“Not my type,” Akira chuckles lowly. He wanders a little closer to the telescope, peering at it curiously. “What is this place?”
Perplexed by Akira’s seeming interest and immediate disinterest in Ann, Goro fiddles with a dial on the telescope. “This whole Tower is a defunct astronomy tool. The Seers used to use it to gather data, but since we don’t have Seers anymore and it can only be used once a month, it’s mostly abandoned. Not to mention–” Goro reaches over to flip the cover off a set of intricate controls in front of Akira. “The machinery is ancient. I don’t think there’s anyone in the Palace who knows how it all works.”
Akira examines the controls before his gaze strays to Goro’s hand, trailing up his arm to land on his face, no less scrutinizing. “Why not destroy it, then?”
Goro allows the cover on the controls to swing shut, the squeaky hinges echoing loudly in the silent Tower. “Well, it’s still a piece of history. Perhaps someday, there will be a use for it again.”
“You think the Seers may come back?”
“No, that’s impossible,” Goro scoffs, trying to ignore the way Akira’s stare makes the back of his neck burn. “Sight may have been a powerful Art thousands of years ago, but it’s pointless now. I doubt there will ever be another true Seer.”
“So you believe there really were true Seers at some point?”
Goro pauses, regarding Akira in the half-light. His expression gives nothing away. “Perhaps it’s an uncommon opinion, but the histories can’t be ignored. True Seers undoubtedly existed, but the Art is lost now.” After the barrier was sealed, Sight began to decline in the general population and the Royal Seers began to lose their ability to see the future accurately. After a few disasters brought about by incorrect visions, King Yaldaboath declared all Seers to be frauds and purged them from the Court. Some reports suggest it was an unpopular decision, but the nobility supported it and when Sight became completely extinct, the King was hailed as a hero. Eventually, rumors conflated with fact and the idea was spread that Sight had always been a lie concocted by scheming Fae aiming for influence within the Summer Court.
“Interesting,” Akira says vaguely.
“What’s with the interrogation?” Goro asks, crossing his arms in front of himself defensively. Something about Akira’s eyes makes him feel like a specimen pinned to a display board.
Akira shrugs. “I merely wanted to get to know you better. The Court speaks a lot about you.”
“Yes, I’m a well-known figure,” Goro replies, still guarded. So he’s just a social climber. Goro can deal with that. “Don’t believe the gossip. The Nobles love to make things up.”
“So I’ve heard. Everyone has a lot to say about the future Archduke.”
Goro fists a hand into the fabric of his sleeve. “That’s a rumor. My father has made no succession plans.”
Akira raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to be Archduke?”
Silence falls between them and Goro stares, frozen, arms locked around himself. Akira’s gaze doesn’t waver, shining through the dim.
“My father has made no succession plans,” Goro repeats quietly, jaw clenched. “Such matters are none of my business, nor anyone else's.” Idle speculation by gossipy Nobles is one thing, but intent expressed by the adopted son of the second most powerful Fae in the Kingdom is something else entirely. Something dangerous.
Akira holds his gaze for a beat longer before dipping his head. “Of course. My apologies. My friends have always told me I’m a good listener. I suppose it’s made me a bit nosy.”
Goro relaxes slightly. “A good listener, hm? I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Something you need to get off your chest?”
“No, nothing like that. But listening can be a valuable skill here.”
Akira smiles crookedly. “I’ll keep my ears open.”
Faced with that smile, Goro finds he has to look away, turning his attention back to the telescope. “Did you live in the Outlands before coming here?” he asks, idly tracing the ornate bronze detailing.
“Yes.” Akira turns to face the telescope as well, surveying the complex machinery. “I attended a speech by Count Yoshida and begged him to accept me as a student.”
“He’s a persuasive speaker. Have politics always been your ambition?”
“In one way or another. I’ve always wanted to help people.” There’s a hard edge to Akira’s voice under the words that makes Goro’s ears perk up. “Politics is one way to do that.”
“Do you want to be a Counselor? Or are you aiming for one of the vacant titles? There are a lot of people vying for those, but if another Noble sponsors you, your chances will go up a lot. Of course, Count Yoshida has no current heir, and the nobility is ostensibly merit-based, even if lineage is considered, so there’s no reason–” Goro breaks off, realizing he was babbling.
Akira doesn’t look annoyed; on the contrary, there’s amusement in his eyes as he watches Goro. “I haven’t thought that far into the future,” he confesses. He takes one hand out of his pocket to trace the eyepiece of the telescope. “I’m just lucky to be here now.”
Goro stares at Akira’s spidery fingers, glowing nearly white in the starlight. “You are,” he agrees. “The capital is much safer than the Outlands.”
Silver eyes dart back up to meet his. “That’s not what I meant.”
His expression speaks volumes in a language Goro doesn’t know how to read. The shimmery paint streaked on Akira’s face catches the light as he tilts his head, focused intensely on Goro, and before he can stop it, Goro’s hand rises, one finger brushing against the powder low on Akira’s cheek. It transfers instantly to his gloved fingertip.
Akira’s eyes go wide.
Goro jerks away. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes hastily, folding his hands behind himself like a naughty child. “It was just–I–the paint–”
Haltingly, Akira raises his own hand and presses it against the place Goro just touched. “Ah, yes, some of the dancers were...very enthusiastic.”
Clearing his throat, Goro looks away. “Well, you can expect a lot of that. We don’t get new people as handsome as you very often.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Even without looking, Goro can tell Akira is smirking and he curses himself.
“That’s just what my friend Ann said,” he says rigidly. “Anyway, I have to bid you goodnight. I have a lot of work to do in the morning.”
“Of course. I hope I haven’t imposed.” Akira finally pulls his other hand from his pocket to offer Goro a full bow. “Goodnight, my prince.”
Goro swallows, chancing a glance at Akira’s lowered head. “Goodnight, Akira.”
He keeps his steps unhurried as he leaves the Tower, but it’s only through sheer force of will.
After that, he can’t help noticing Akira around Court. Quite against his will, Goro finds his eyes drawn by that slouching figure, those unruly curls every time Akira passes within sight. He seems to be a diligent worker, frequently hurrying back and forth between the different sections of the Palace complex, trailing a busy-looking Yoshida or transporting materials. There’s really nothing notable about his activities, but that doesn’t stop Goro’s gaze from lingering.
“He’s sweet,” Ann says, apropos of nothing, idly tracing her finger around the gold rim of her teacup. They’re sitting in a small, open-air patio that looks onto the courtyard of the main residential wing, sharing gossip over a late lunch.
It’s a lovely day and Goro looks up from contemplating the patch of violet flowers near his feet at Ann’s words. “Who is?”
Ann nods in the direction of the courtyard, eyebrows raised pointedly.
Goro follows her gaze to see Akira deep in discussion with a couple of archival assistants next to a marble fountain. He’s dressed down, his usual uniform missing a few layers, but he looks just as serious as always. “Akira?”
Ann giggles. “First names already?”
Goro flashes her an unimpressed look. “It’s not like either of us have titles.”
“I guess,” she hums. “But I’ve heard what he calls you, my prince.”
“A lot of people call me that.” Goro raises his cup to his lips, hoping to hide the flush spreading across his face.
“Yes, but when he says it, he means it.”
“I didn’t know you were so familiar with him.”
She shrugs, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger. “We’ve spoken a few times. Like I said, he’s sweet. Always helping people.”
“Count Yoshida is lucky to have him,” Goro says dismissively, trying to signal the end of the conversation, but Ann refuses the hint, sucking thoughtfully on her teaspoon.
“I wonder where he came from,” she says around the delicate silverware. “He’s kinda secretive, you know?”
“Is he?” Goro responds, trying to sound uninterested.
“Mh-hm.” She pops the spoon out of her mouth and plunks it down into her nearly-empty cup. “I feel like we could be best friends, but it’s like he’s got a wall up.”
“You can be intimidating sometimes, Ann.”
“I know that.” She leans sideways against the table, cheek balanced on one hand, still staring pensively into the courtyard. “But that’s not the problem. He’s not scared of me.”
Goro eyes her critically. Her snowy skin is radiant in the afternoon sunlight, golden hair tumbling around her artistically, blue eyes glittering like gemstones. Goro’s pretty sure there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be scared of Ann Takamaki. “Then what is it?”
She frowns. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s just tough to crack.” A sly smile aimed at him– “Like you.”
Goro takes another sip of tea, not rising to the bait. “Why are you so interested, anyway? He’s just a page.”
“How very reductive of you, Goro,” she scolds. “Even pages can be successful if they apply themselves. And besides–” she hitches her smile back up, more mischievous this time, “–the rest of the Court is very interested in him.”
“And why is that?”
“Oh, probably because he’s handsome and polite. But that’s nothing to sneer at, you know. Those two things are usually mutually exclusive.”
Goro settles his cup down with a quiet clink. “Yes, you’re proof of that, aren’t you?”
She laughs loudly, like she always does when Goro says something snide. “Apparently so are you!”
“My apologies, Ann. You’re a treasure.” He smiles and he means it.
She tosses her hair. “Of course I am, but that’s not my point.”
“Then what is your point? I’m afraid I lost track.”
“Well, now–” she tilts her head, “–I’m not going to tell you.” Suddenly, she stands up, her chair scraping back noisily behind her, and waves to someone over Goro’s shoulder. “Shiho! Yuki!”
Goro turns to see a dark-haired girl and a reedy-looking boy stop on their way into the entrance hall. The girl waves back enthusiastically.
“I’ll see you later, my prince,” Ann bids him farewell, hurrying around the table and ruffling his hair for good measure when she passes behind him.
He protests weakly as she jogs over to her friends.
Alone at the table, Goro frowns at his teacup, running a hand through his disordered locks. What was she getting at?
“Good afternoon, my prince.”
Startled, Goro lowers his hand and looks up to see Akira hovering on the other side of the table. Evidently, he hiked up the small rise from the garden to the patio while Goro was distracted.
“Good afternoon,” he echoes, blinking at Akira’s outline, backlit by the suns. “Hard at work, I see.”
“Always.” Akira tips his head to the side. “Are you watching me, your highness?”
Goro waves a hand. “I merely saw you with the archival assistants.”
“Of course.”
A beat of silence passes between them and Goro feels it prickle up his spine.
“Well,” he starts, casting about for something to say, “–how are you adjusting to life in the Court?” He grimaces internally. Way to sound like a grandmother.
Akira doesn’t seem put off, however. He just shrugs listlessly, glancing out over the grounds. “I’m getting used to it. It’s very different than where I come from.”
Goro chuckles. “Yes, the Court operates very differently from most towns. It’s almost like a city in its own right.”
“It’s nearly the size of a city too. Sometimes I think it’s too big.”
Recalling their first meeting, Goro asks, “Have you found yourself getting lost?”
“Perhaps a few times,” Akira admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, be careful. There won’t always be someone as helpful as me around to guide you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking anyone else anyway.”
While Goro tries to figure out what kind of joke that was supposed to be, Akira narrows his eyes at him and leans over, planting a hand on the table between them. “You’ve got–” he reaches out and, before Goro can react, runs cool fingers through Goro’s hair.
Goro freezes, staring up at Akira as he pulls back.
“Your hair was sticking up.” Catching sight of Goro’s face, Akira jerks back further. “I’m sorry, was that too forward? Suns, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“It’s alright,” Goro interrupts, his voice a little quieter than he wants it to be. His scalp tingles and he resists the urge to touch it. “You just startled me.”
“Still, I shouldn’t touch you without asking. I wasn’t thinking.” Akira looks very contrite, shoving his hands in his pockets and avoiding eye contact.
“I’m serious, it’s fine,” Goro insists, missing the weight of Akira’s intense gaze for some reason. “I’m not made of glass.”
Akira hesitates for a second before looking back at Goro. “I know.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I’ll warn you next time.”
“Don’t bother,” Goro sniffs. “I’m not titled nobility. You really don’t have to treat me so carefully.”
Akira’s eyebrows shoot up and, too late, Goro realizes how that sounded. Like he just gave Akira permission to touch him whenever. He should clarify.
“Because–” he says quickly, “It’s only fair, after all, the other night I also….” he trails off, pressing his lips together at the memory of brushing his hand against Akira’s face in the Celestial Tower.
Fae are, by nature, affectionate, and touch comes easily as an outlet even between acquaintances, but Goro has always been a little different in that regard. For multiple reasons. The Court in general knows this and, coupled with their terror of upsetting the Archduke, handles him gingerly as a result. Ann is the only exception, but she’s rarely around and not constrained by typical Court concerns. So far, Akira’s casual treatment has been novel, a taste of what other Fae his age have in abundance. As pathetic as that sounds, Goro doesn’t want to scare him off.
Another silent breath passes.
“That’s true,” Akira says slowly, regarding him inscrutably. “Well. I’m afraid I still have work to do. It was nice to speak to you again.”
Why, Goro wants to scream. This conversation was a disaster! “Indeed,” he agrees tightly. “Have a nice day, Akira.”
“You as well.” Akira bends at the waist just enough to be proper, keeping deep grey eyes on Goro. “I hope to speak to you again soon, my prince.”
He strides away and Goro doesn’t watch him go, keeping his gaze on the tabletop while Ann’s smug face manifests in his head.
The next morning, he receives a missive from his father.
Early dinner with me, followed by meeting with the King. Dress up.
Succinct as always. Goro sighs, dismissing the servant and closing the door to his chambers. His father doesn’t meet with him often, but with everything that’s been going on, Goro isn’t surprised. Maybe the King finally wants to discuss the Darkening.
That evening, when the sky is streaked with pink but before the suns reach their lowest point, Goro excuses himself from Sae and a couple of her fellow Counselors and returns to his chambers to dress up. His father always makes a point to specify that because, left to his own devices, Goro tends to dress rather simply, usually preferring utility over ostentation. But Shido won’t abide him looking like a page in his presence.
He chooses a richly brocaded white tunic with red accents and dons a red outer robe with more of a train that he’s really comfortable with. He pulls his hair back with the ribbon Ann left him last night and slips his gloves on, a nicer red pair for the occasion. Then he’s ready to go.
On his way to Shido’s private dining room, he finds himself watching the halls around himself, peering around corners, expecting to catch a glimpse of midnight hair. He stops dead in his tracks at the realization and harshly scolds himself.
Shido is already seated when he arrives. “You’re late,” he chides, gesturing for Goro to sit across from him and snapping to summon a servant.
“Apologies, Archduke,” Goro says, taking his seat. It’s only Father in public. “I will be prompter next time.”
Shido grunts, taking a sip of wine.
Goro thanks the servant that delivers his food and begins eating quietly, waiting for Shido to get to the point. He doesn’t have to wait long.
Shido dismisses the servants from the room with a wave of his hand. As soon as they’re gone, he levels a squinty look at Goro across the table. “Go on, then,” he prompts.
Without mincing words, Goro outlines all the information he’s gathered since he last reported to Shido, referencing the small notebook he keeps tucked in an inner pocket. Everything from romantic dalliances to possible political moves, he remembers everything and dutifully recounts it as Shido listens critically. Goro is always surprised by the amount people are willing to share with him, given that he is the Archduke’s son, but everyone trusts Shido, and therefore they trust him as well. If only they knew the extent to which Shido is pulling the strings. If only they knew how much of Shido’s professional and empathetic personality is a carefully constructed facade hiding an insecure, power-hungry despot.
Goro is far from the beloved adopted son Shido claims him to be in public. In truth, he’s little more than a tool and Shido regards him similarly to the fork and knife currently poised in his hands.
“–and Counselor Sae plans to bring up the construction of an official quarantine zone at the next Counsel session,” he finishes, his food long since cold and mostly untouched on his plate.
Shido rubs his chin. “That might not be a terrible idea,” he considers. “I’ll have a word with the Senior Counselors.”
The Counsel is supposed to operate outside of the nobility as a completely impartial body guided by law and reason. The reality is that whatever Shido wants gets done one way or another. Every time Sae starts working on a project Goro knows Shido won’t approve of, he has to fight the urge to tell her it’s pointless.
The Archduke position wasn’t always so powerful. In fact, according to the government records, there used to be several Archdukes that split the ruling power as the King’s proxies and balanced each other equally, but for the past few hundred years, Shido has been the only one in the position, slowly insinuating himself deeper and deeper in the court until nothing happens without his knowledge and permission.
Shido is young compared to most of the Archdukes of legend, some of whom rivalled the Monarch in age, living thousands of years before accepting the position. At only a few hundred, Shido shouldn’t be as powerful as he is, both in the Court and in the depth of his magic. The form that sits in front of Goro now, a relatively normal-looking Fae man with carefully groomed facial hair and sleek, expensive robes, is a vessel that contains a being of almost pure Fae magic. Goro has only seen his true form once, shortly after he was adopted, and he wishes to never do so again.
Weaker Fae can’t even spend too long in his presence. Even Goro, blessed with naturally strong Arts, feels the effects after a while. Already, a minor headache is building behind his eyes.
“Well, then,” Shido says briskly, snapping to re-summon the servants. “Let’s not keep the King waiting.”
The Seelie King resides in the very center of the Palace, which is less a contiguous building and more a sprawling network of different complexes, all serving different purposes. Very few servants work in the Central Palace and the ones that do work in cycles to keep from being obliterated by the King’s massive amount of magical power. Compared to the King, Shido is a pixie, and no physical form can truly contain that much energy.
Rumor has it that anyone who beholds the King directly turns to ash, but those are only rumors. Mostly.
A blank-eyed servant leads Shido and Goro through the marble hallway to the throne room. The servant’s voice is mechanical and vacant when he speaks and he doesn’t respond outside of the respectful greetings, but Goro has been to the Central Palace often enough that he’s used to it.
“The King is expecting you,” the servant says tonelessly, bowing in front of the closed doors to the throne room.
Shido brushes past him to push the doors open.
“Thank you,” Goro says quietly.
The servant doesn’t respond to either of them, turning and walking stiffly away.
The throne room is a grand, sweeping space lined with shining golden columns. The spaces between the columns are empty, no tapestries or artefacts to bring warmth to the room, leaving the entire area feeling cold and sterile. It’s beautiful and imposing as Goro taps across the gleaming marble floors, under the massive domed window that serves as a ceiling, but it’s dead. Even the crackle of magical energy permeating the air can’t breathe life into the King’s throne room.
On a tiered dias as the very end of the long room stands an exquisite gold throne housed within a canopy supported by four sculpted golden trees. Goro can’t see the throne through the layers of gauze curtains currently drawn around it, but he knows what lies within. The glow of the lanterns floating throughout the room affords the barest glimpse of a silhouette through the canopy, the impression of a tall, broad man settled on the throne.
Flanking the canopy, a few steps down on the dias, stand two young-looking Fae girls, as always. Aging can be complicated for Fae, and people who look young may in fact be very old, but still, Goro has always thought Caroline and Justine appear exceedingly young for their lofty positions as the King’s personal pages. Regardless, they must be very powerful to bear the King’s presence as much as they do.
Shido marches confidently to the very foot of the dias and Goro follows suit, a few steps back.
“Kneel!” One of the girls barks, probably Caroline, given her abrasive tone. Not only are the girls dressed in identical blue robes, they also possess the same silver hair and pale eyes, so until one of them opens their mouth, it’s nigh impossible to tell them apart. “Eyes down!”
Shido and Goro both drop to one knee, heads bowed.
A soft swishing noise signals that the girls have pulled the cords attached to the canopy, parting the gleaming curtains with a smooth rush of air that Goro can feel ruffling his hair.
The change is undeniable. With the curtains open, the subtle hum of magic in the air intensifies enough to raise the hairs on Goro’s arms. Even with his own fortifying well of magic, it’s easy to imagine how spending so much time in such a presence would drive one mad.
“Raise your heads,” the King’s voice sounds, filling the space despite its low volume, so deep that it resounds in Goro’s bones.
Goro looks up. The King isn’t glowing, or floating, or anything like that, and if you were to view him through several panes of glass, he would look like a fairly ordinary Fae man, broad-shouldered with an angular face and close-cropped hair, age indeterminate. However, even with his massive power dampened somewhat by his shell, the air around them is heavy. Almost sparkling.
“My King,” Shido says. “Your humble servant, the Archduke Masayoshi Shido, has come as you requested.”
“Archduke.” The King nods, his smooth face displaying no emotion. “It has been a while since our last meeting, and even longer since I have seen your son. I trust you are both well.”
“Yes, my King.”
Goro doesn’t dare speak up unless directly addressed, so he stays quiet, watching attentively.
“Excellent,” the King booms. “I am eager to hear your report, Archduke.”
While Shido rambles about the state of the Court, Goro surreptitiously eyes the King and his pages. The amount of Fae who see the King face-to-face can be counted on one hand. Caroline, Justine, Shido, and, most recently, himself. It wasn’t until several years after his adoption that Shido finally deigned to allow Goro into the King’s presence, and he made it very clear that it was at the King’s request.
He was terrified the first time he met the King, recalling all the stories he’d read of the King’s blinding power, his viciousness during the War, and while the King exudes magic almost like a suffocating fog, the truth is underwhelming. King Yaldaboath is no military genius, no great intelligence, no benevolent ruler.
It only took one meeting for Goro to see the King as he really is: an over-gorged parasite, content to let others rule his nation for him, willingly handing more and more governing power over to a greedy, cruel man like Shido. He sits on his laurels from the War, never taking initiative, locked inside his gilded Palace. A figurehead. A fraud.
The Seelie regard him as a hero for saving them from the Unseelie menace, for erecting the Barrier, for purging the Seers, but he’s nothing like the Seelie Monarchs of legend. The records may be lost, but the tales remain, stories of Queen Margaret’s patience and poise, of King Theodore’s eagerness to serve, of Queen Elizabeth’s vivacity, of how all of them personally loved and protected their people.
King Yaldaboath is nothing. The only notable thing about him is his immense well of magic, which seems to increase at an unprecedented rate. With so little concrete information about past Monarchs, it’s impossible to say if this power gain is normal, but Goro feels it can’t be. Maybe sitting around doing nothing makes your magic accumulate more quickly. It’s impossible to say.
Of course, thoughts like that are akin to treason, so Goro keeps his opinions to himself.
Finally, Shido finishes his report with a polite duck of his head and the King swings his attention to Goro. He shivers at the sensation of spiny insects crawling up his spine that always accompanies the King’s direct gaze.
“And you, little princeling,” the King rumbles. “How is your training progressing?”
“Very well, your highness.” For some reason, the King has always found Goro somewhat entertaining. It was by his request that Goro be allowed to meet him, after all, and he always inquires after him with the air of one checking in on a vaguely interesting houseplant. Even to the most powerful Fae in the Kingdom, Goro is a novelty. Perhaps the knowledge should make him vain.
“I am pleased to hear it.” The King tilts his head. “Your father speaks highly of you. I have high hopes for your future.”
“Thank you, your highness.” Behind his back, Goro clenches his fist. His hands feel hot under the leather.
“Until next time, Archduke,” the King says, moving his focus back to Shido, and Goro almost sighs with relief as the tingling abates. The King extends one hand, the sleeve of his opulent robe trailing on the floor, and beckons Shido forward.
Shido smoothly ascends the steps of the dias. “Of course, my King.” Grasping the King’s hand in his and bowing over it, he presses his forehead briefly to the back in a gesture of devotion reserved almost exclusively for royalty and their most loyal vassals. Shido is the only one permitted to touch the King directly and for a second Goro burns with envy.
All it would take is one touch and Goro would have what he needs–
Officially dismissed, Goro and Shido are ushered out by Caroline and Justine, who quickly pull the cords on the canopy to draw the curtains closed once again. Due to the King’s massive amount of magical power, his physical shell is nearly impossible to maintain, so visits are kept short by necessity. If his true form starts to leak out, not only would it be hazardous for any in his presence, but the King would be in danger as well.
At their core, Fae are magic, energy generating and inhabiting a physical body, which allows them to interact with the world without scorching their surroundings, but the bodies serve another purpose: hiding the Heart. The Heart is a Fae’s greatest weakness, the core of their power and the one surefire way to kill them. Left alone, Fae can live for thousands of years; their magic will fade eventually, but, other than that, the only way to kill a Fae is to damage them completely beyond repair or strike their Heart directly. The location of the Heart is different for every Fae and is only visible on the true form. So there are two ways to find a Fae’s Heart, seeing their true form, and–
As the doors to the throne room slam shut behind them, Goro clasps his hands tightly behind his back.
They leave the Central Palace unaccosted, walking in silence across the bridge over the small lagoon that separates the King’s dwelling from the rest of the Palace.
“You didn’t mention the Darkening,” Goro says at length.
Shido sneers. “His Highness doesn’t like talk of the Darkening.”
Of course he doesn’t, Goro thinks. The sky above is purple, twilight well upon them. “Does the King know about the cases in the city?”
“He’s been informed.”
Goro waits, but Shido doesn’t elaborate. “Is he doing anything?”
“His highness is taking his time to consider the matter,” Shido says sharply. “As am I.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? The townspeople are growing more agitated and–”
Shido freezes and, like he’s on a leash, Goro’s footsteps falter as well, his words cutting off.
“Are you questioning me?” Shido’s voice is cold, ice creeping into the air around them.
Goro swallows, eyes averted. “No, sir.”
“Do you think you know better than me? Than the King?” Shido is taller than him, so when he steps forward, he looms over Goro, blocking the light of the sunset.
Fighting to keep from stepping back, from reaching for the blade strapped to his thigh, Goro clenches his jaw. “Of course not, sir.”
Shido’s mood, so even and professional in Court, swings violently back and forth in private. Goro curses himself for not being more careful.
“Then keep your mouth shut,” Shido snarls. “You know what happens to those who question me.”
Goro doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at Shido’s collar, breath caught in his lungs.
“Now, be a good boy.” Shido pulls back, turning away, fury apparently doused in an instant. “I’ll send for you if I need you.” Without another look at Goro, he strides down the path, tugging at his cuffs.
Goro follows him with his eyes, staring at his back. His hand twitches toward his thigh. It would only take one good thrust, and–
Then Shido disappears into a small copse of trees, headed for his private quarters, and Goro exhales harshly.
He can’t. It’s too soon. If he kills Shido now, the King will just appoint someone else unsuitable. If his plan is going to work, he’ll need to kill them both, but he hasn’t seen the King’s Heart. Until he has that information, any move will be too risky.
If he just bides his time, ingratiating himself with the Court and letting Shido think he has him cowed, he’ll get his chance eventually.
But not tonight.
Taking a deep breath of clear evening air, Goro unroots his feet and heads toward the residential complex. Shido has his own palace in the city as well as a sprawling estate in the Northern lands, but he spends most of his time at Court and therefore, so does Goro.
The one upside to the exhausting evening is that it’s pushed all thoughts of Akira from Goro’s head and he falls into bed without even pulling the curtains closed.