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Chapter Text

The storm raging outside her bedroom window does nothing to quell her racing heart.

Instead, it fills her with a gloomy sense of foreboding, certainly a rite of passage for the terrible omen that was surely to come her way.

She twists and turns in her bed -feeling as restless as the princess who slept on a pea- and worries.

Thoughts of the kingdom's farmers' fields plague her, how they might fare under the harsh conditions of the storm, ponderings on how the livestock manage to sleep (if they sleep) soundly through the rumbling of thunder, and other matters float around her mind, begging for her attention and leaving her more distraught than ever.

Lightning strikes and its thunder echoes grimly in the distance, beyond the comforts and safety of her chambers, and she's forced to address the lingering pit in the depths of her stomach -her largest predicament by far.

Yashiro Nene, the sole heir to the crown of her kingdom, was engaged.

When she had first heard the news, made aware of so kindly by her father -who had already shook hands on giving his only daughter away- she was ecstatic.

Her betrothed -husband to be, the mere thought filled the girl with glee- was the son of a wealthy neighboring kingdom in the East, a land filled with obscure history that even she didn't know of.

The mystery surrounding the prince enraptured the girl, leaving her to imagine and conjure up fantasies to her heart's content in half-hearted attempts to soother her burning curiosity and excess energy.

A prince: someone who'd come to sweep her off her feet and dance with her til midnight, walk along the sandy expanse of her kingdom's borders at the crack of dawn, and listen to her each and every ramble of her favorite romance novels.

She could already imagine his dreamy gaze and strong arms, sun-colored tousled hair that would look perfect from every angle, and refined elegance befitting of a future ruler.

His skin would be as pale as moonlight, with eyes as blue as the sea surrounding her kingdom, and he'd be absolutely enamored with her, down to the very bone.

Perhaps she had gotten a tad bit carried away with her fantasizing.

Either way, that was then.

Now, however?

In the middle of the night, with sleep having fully and, regrettably, seeped away from her and into the mattress in which she lay, she couldn't help but feel the reality of her situation settling in.

It was an arranged marriage, nothing more and nothing less. Watered down to a means for concreting a political alliance, possibly even creating a heir for the throne in the inevitable future, but other than that?

Experiencing true love wouldn't even be a guarantee.

Caught up in the excitement and dazzle of meeting someone new from a faraway land, the logistics and intricacies had completely gone over her head, leaving her the slightest bit ashamed despite there being no audience to witness her naivete.

Other than the prince's kingdom and family name, she knew absolutely nothing of her betrothed!

And although she could still hope that, despite their formal arrangement, the two could grow to love each other, the princess knew first-hand how slim those chances would be.

Her parents were the undeniable proof that marriage for royalty was procured -not out of love- but from the size of your army and the weight of your crown.

Her parents never discussed the topic with her, aside from the purely necessary details that she ought to know as heir, but, from what she could gather, her making had not been amorous in the slightest.

Brief mentions of a decade-long war, peace sought and attained by a marriage of last resort, and...

There were reasons as to why her mother couldn't bear to be in the same room as her father for long.

The princess didn't like to think about it too deeply.

Especially now, the day before her fiancé was supposed to arrive!

Her heart beat in tandem with the rain pouring outside her window, lower lip trembling as she clutched at her covers and buried her face into her pillows.

Though her mother and father loved her greatly, she still ached for the kind of affections that platonic caring could not provide.

Seeing her parents' relationship only made her wish harder, absolutely determined to not wed out of obligation, but out of love.

And so, with mind in a flurry and heart beating in a frenzy, Yashiro Nene stared at her domed ceiling until the storm subsided, lightning seemed to strike less, and thunder no longer crackled and rumbled through the ground.

When the first rays of sun had speared through her window, her eyes had barely just begun to droop.

Her morning went by in a hurry.

It has felt like just an hour had passed since she fell into slumber when a servant -the first of many- came to fetch her from her chambers.

She spent more than a quarter of an hour rousing from bed, feeling the weight of a thousand carriages on her body just begging her to lay back down.

After an innumerable amount of shakes and yanks, the princess was led to her bath, discarding her night garments and letting her hair down for the daily wash.

When the frigidity of the water touched her skin and freezed the last remnants of sleep, the servant closest to her only smiled weakly and reminded, "It would've been warmer if you had woken earlier, Your Royal Highness,"

Without further promoting, she slipped fully into the tub, embracing the delicate fragrances entwined with the water and sinking into the soft touches disentangling her hair.

A soft hum rang out as her servants worked, perhaps a harmonized song they all habitually knew, and the princess could almost ignore the pit-pattering of her heart behind her chest.

It fluttered like a hummingbird locked inside a gilded cage, flapping a thousand beats per second and wanting nothing more than an out. Despite her attempts to stay calm and optimistic, positive and gracious, she couldn't help but feel a sense of impending doom, mixed with a fuzzy feeling of excitement coiling within.

It was an odd sentiment -worrying yet trilling with exhilaration, as juxtapositary as a cat purring contentedly while swashing out with feisty claws. Or maybe nauseous would be the best way to describe her feelings presently.

Her body is scrubbed down with castile soap and other aromatic oils, no doubt preparing her for her fateful meeting with the prince. 

Once she is deemed as sufficiently cleaned, she is rinsed and dried with even stronger-smelling cloths and ushered back into her chambers.

Her hair is brushed with an urgency the princess all -but understands, her corset is laced to a suffocating degree, and she is soon dressed in an exquisite gown.

She has no chance to fully appreciate her appearance before another of her servants knocks at her door with an all-too familiar rhythm.

The name is out of her mouth before she knows it, and she leaps from her cushioned seat and springs to open the door before the nearest servant can.

"Akane!"

The brunet man gives a subtle flinch at the princess's eagerness, but quickly gives a light bow to compensate.

He wears a long coat and a beige button-up shirt as always, a vast contrast from the drab and simple attire belonging to the common servant.

Aoi Akane, the King's personal courier and, simultaneously, one of the princess's closest friends.

Not the last face she'd want to see this morning, she decides.

"Best of mornings to you too, Your Royal Highness."

At the title, the aforementioned curtsies, a broad smile gracing her lips as she struggles to withhold her pure and overflowing excitement.

Akane's visits were few and far between, sparse and rare due to his constant trips to and from the kingdom. If she was lucky, sometimes he'd bring pocket-souvenirs from his travels, always leaving them on her bedside-table before briskly embarking onto his next mission.

To be able to see him here is nothing short of a luxury.

She is almost able to forget the day's royal visit, all her worries and concerns slowly slipping from her mind, when Akane speaks.

"The Minamotos are about to be here, Princess; Your presence is required."

And just like that, her feet are back on the ground, and she's slowly being led to the throne room, where the root of her worries invariably waits.

Akane is quiet as he leads the way, fists clenched unsubtly and boots thudding loudly across the large and empty hall.

A few servants pass them, some carrying brooms and cleaning supplies, while others hold books and pages scribbled with reports pertaining the kingdom's affairs -no doubt petitions and notices belonging to the realm's people.

All of them scurry once they see the two, no doubt alarmed by Akane's stone-hard expression and the princess's own nervous one.

Tripping over her words, she tries to alleviate the palpable tension between the two, and asks into the silence, "What do they look like?"

She guesses that Akane quirks up an eyebrow as he responds, though she can't know for certain with his face turned clearly away from her.

"The Minamotos?"

She nods her assent out of habit, but ends up quickly vocalizing it instead.

"Yes, I suppose you've seen them when delivering the two king's correspondence?"

"That's true,"

It's all Akane says and, for a solid second, the princess worries that meant the end of their conversation.

"There are three children of the Minamoto bloodline,"

Her ears perk up immediately at that, and she can't help but feel like a rugged street-cat who's just had a fillet of fish waved underneath its dull-pink nose.

"Two males, and one young princess. All with heads of spiky blonde hair. It's an eyesore to look at, if you'd ask me,"

The princess mentally cheers for the fact the prince shares the same hair color as the object of her daydreaming, before she quickly exclaims in imprudence, "That's all you know? C'mon Akane, there must've been juicier stuff!"

She hears a soft chuckle bubble out of the brunet, and can't figure out if it's mocking or in kind.

"You'll meet the prince soon enough, Your Highness, you'll get enough time to form your own opinions about them soon,"

The princess lets out a huff and visibly deflates, powerless once Akane fully makes up his mind and sets an ultimatum.

Still, it doesn't stop her from murmuring in defeat, "Fine, but I told you to just call me by my name when we were alone -you're my friend,"

A second of silence passes, then another, before Akane half-heartedly mutters, "I am the King's servant first, your friend second; It'd be off with my head before I ever dare to refer to you with such casualness."

Akane is stiff for the duration of the walk, and the princess belatedly wishes she hadn't said a word after all.

"We're here, Your Royal Highness."

She barely utters her appreciation before Akane is off again, doubtlessly on his way to another errand.

Sometimes, she envied the way in which he could leave as he pleased, the sceneries he has probably encountered in his travels, and the amount of people he's surely met.

A life spent freely exploring the world of which she dreamed of, beyond the murky waters surrounding her kingdom, and traversing through open fields.

Perhaps she was romanticizing a courier's life too hastily, though, since the man himself never seemed to be in a fully pleasant mood.

With slow and tentative steps, she enters the throne room, breathing a sigh of relief at only spotting her father, accompanied by his usual array of servants.

As was customary, she curtsied before addressing her parent, sparing a small, yet genuine nonetheless, smile at those surrounding him.

"I'm here, father, what is it that you need?"

The ruler of the kingdom, simultaneously being her mother's husband and captor, her own dad, doesn't look like her.

He's slightly pudgy and stout, with dark-colored hair and tired down-cast eyes. Yet he holds the strength to rule the realm with a sternly gentle hand -as far as she's concerned.

Sometimes, the princess wonders if he's so terribly fond of her because she takes after her mother. Other times, she wishes she could become as good as a ruler as her father.

Still, in the present moment, she can't help the sentiment of being terribly small as she's beckoned to her father's side, very much feeling like a trophy about to be handed away.

She pushes those thoughts aside, however, as best she can, and waits not so patiently for her father to provide further instruction.

"I've conferred with the king of the Minamoto kingdom myself, I believe this marriage will be in our best interests,"

She nods in understanding quickly, willing her father to go on.

He drones on about how the engagement will both solidify relations between the two nations and deal with the matter of procuring an heir -the princess visibly winces at the latter half, feeling much too young to be thinking about children.

She was barely twenty-one, for the Lord's sake!

But, in all, nothing out of her realm of knowledge was covered. Her father finishes his speech with a kind reminder to be optimistic, and to remember that it was all for her own good.

So, if not for herself, then she'll attempt to ease the turbulent storm within her for her father's sake.

He was the king of their nation first, her father second. Her worries and concerns would always come after the matters of their kingdom.

She tries not to let the realization sting as much as it normally would, and redirects her attention elsewhere.

All too suddenly, the throne hall's doors opened, and one of the king's valets stepped inside hurriedly.

A few seconds pass before the princess realizes what is going on.

Her father is a few steps ahead of her.

When he stands, his broad shoulders in wide display and balding dark hair hidden by the majesty of the crown, it takes everything in the princess to not shake like a fish out of water. Her knees bump against each other, and she could swear that her legs were just about to give out.

The servant at the door begins to speak, voice loud and booming, and the princess is forced to remember that princesses act with grace.

"Please welcome His Royal Majesty, Kou, of the Minamoto Kingdom,"

But then she sees the prince, her prince, and she's just-

Oh!

He has charming blue eyes, blond (but unkempt) hair, and (slightly tanned) skin as smooth as a hamster's coat. 

He looks exactly like her dreams, and she could pinpoint the exact second in which she swoons.

Quite literally. 

The next thing she knows, her feet are moving by themselves and she's falling head-first to the ground by the prince's feet.

As she's bracing herself in preparation for her inevitable collision, muscles tense and teeth grit, she feels something- someone holding her up.

By her hair.

She lets out an unladylike screech and flails wildly, arms wheeling out in all directions as she struggles to get back on her feet.

The pain in her scalp is too much, it feels like her hair is going to be ripped off, and with one last look to identify the perpetrator, she sees...

Not her prince?

She's dropped unflatteringly to the floor with no warning, falling flat on her back and with no choice other than to lock eyes with her... Savior? Attempted murderer? 

Jester?

It's a lanky man with even tanner skin, though she cannot fathom if it's a product of the sun itself or the boy's natural skin tone. 

Choppy strands of dark brown hair -the same shade as wet Earth, she thinks- peek out from under a fool's cap, the color not distinct from the cacao beans imported into her kingdom. He's dressed in -what she believes is- a jester's garments, a ruffled white collar adorning his neck, and gold buttons lining down his shirt.

Most noticeable, though, is the wicked smile the man bears.

All sharp teeth, with twinkling amber eyes that hold the shine of a thousand suns.

He's holding his hand out for her, and, for a second, the princess wonders if it's as rough as it looks.

(Her heart does not skip a beat, not at all!)

"You okay, Princess?"

His voice is gravelly, yet pleasing to the ear -the same way that a crow's somber call can craft the most delicious of sounds- and has a specific accent that she can't really place.

Her cheeks are still flushed bright red due to the embarrassment, and she's still not quite certain whether to be mad at the man or not. 

He did lessen her fall, after all.

She lets her hand linger in between the two, somehow having gravitated to the man before her in between her thoughts. 

But then the man lets out a laugh, a snarky and humiliating sound, and the princess swears that she'll kick him out of the palace grounds then and there.

It feels like she has been momentarily struck by lightning when she realizes that he's looking at her ankles.

She slaps his hand away and rises off the floor on wobbly legs by herself, attempting to smoothen out her dress and regain some of her dignity back.

How embarrassing! How could this happen to her in front of her betrothed? She's never ever ever EVER going to get over this-

She can feel the onslaught of tears threatening to pour out from underneath her eyes, heart beating quickly and incessantly as she tried to steady her breathing.

The man is still standing a few feet in front of her.

It takes her a while to register another presence by her side.

It's her prince.

Had he been watching everything unfold from a distance? Why hadn't he sprung to action sooner?

"Your Highness! Are you okay, my Lady? That was a nasty fall, would you wish for me to escort you back to your chambers?"

"I.. I am okay, please do not trouble yourself, I will fare well on my own."

And just her luck -what God above had she irked so? The prince... Kou, was overwhelmingly eager in his requests to aid her. 

"Please, my Lady, I-"

In any other occasion, she'd be delighted to have a charming prince at her beck and call, overly eager and attentive to her every whim -but now? After the horrible incident that had transpired a few minutes ago, she wanted nothing more than to escape to her chambers and wake up til the sun had risen once more.

Her father clears her throat, tearing the prince and his jester's attention away from her, and she can only breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Let my servants get you acclimated, yes, Prince Kou?"

Immediately at the words, the man in question straightened his posture and turned away completely, wholely devoting his attention to the king like a mutt to its master.

Using the opening her father had so kindly created for her, the princess quietly treaded back into the hallway and towards her dormitory, palms sweaty and face flushed.

So much for a first meeting.

Chapter Text

His eyes trail behind the princess, loose strands of hair still clumped within his clenched fists.

Oddly enough, she doesn't seem to notice the amber eyes boring into her back -figures, for a princess raised in solitary confinement and loving arms at every turn to not have an inkling of survival instincts.

Still, the jester cannot shake off the odd feeling resting at the bottom of his stomach. 

It's a fluttery thing, light and breezy and airy when it squirms in his belly, ticklish with its feather-like softness. 

He hopes not to catch his reflection on any of the throne room's shiny metal decorations, for he's sure his face is the color of a wine-tinted camellia.

He's still standing amid the large and grand hall, feet having not moved an inch from his previous spot.

It all had happened so fast, he could blame his reactions on mere instinct -but even then, that hadn't been the case.

He shouldn't have gotten involved, especially with the weight of a whole kingdom at stake, but the mere sight of the princess compelled him to act beyond his orders. 

Just as she had began going through the motions of a traditional curtsy, her foot had gotten lodged in the expensive carpeting, and she was sent tumbling down the carpeted stairs.

If he hadn't caught her, she'd-

She'd probably have been fine, without a doubt.

He looks around the room once more, careful to avoid any objects with the reflective quality of mirrors, and-

His gaze inadvertently shifts down to his hand again.

Long, delicate tresses of beige-blonde hair at his hands -he had yanked on it hastily and without much care, her hair simply happened to be what was closest in reach. 

He couldn't shake the visage of her off his mind, no matter how hard or desperately he attempted to.  

Her face had contorted into utter confusion and humiliation, though it didn't lessen her beauty at all -her big, doe eyes had widened so that the dark pink of her iris seemed to swim in an ocean of rippling white waves, and her rosy lips had furled into a pout.

And when she'd fallen, pale frilly white dress pillowing around her, rather thick ankles left exposed perhaps indecently, the jester couldn't hold back his bemused smile from sweeping across his face, heart threatening to crawl up his slimy throat and crack a joke for the princess before him.

She had slapped his hand away before he even got the chance to do so.

If he were anyone else, anything else, he would've called the girl-

-pretty.

The princess was so, so beautiful, the prince could hardly believe his sight.

She had angelic features -a face belonging to the angels displayed in his own castle's chapel- and every teensy thing about her was graceful.

Heavens, even the way she fell was dainty and delicate! 

Kou couldn't help the ways in which his heart throbbed at the core of his being, nor the cold sweat that suddenly engulfed his hands and made him stutter out short gasps of breath. Worst of all, he had made a complete fool of himself with his unchivalrous insistence.

Had he ruined things already, barely at their first meeting?

He shook his head rapidly in frustration, succeeding in throwing off the thoughts that had permeated and plagued him.

He turned to look towards Hanako, who kept staring down at his hands with a morbid, somber expression. 

Thinning his lips in disgruntlement, Kou approached the jester, frame hunched over himself in treacherous silence.

"Yo, Hanako, what've you got there?"

The man immediately flinched in surprise, big bug eyes scanning everywhere in the throne room before landing on the prince himself. At realizing who it was, he quickly stuffed something inside his pockets.

The prince's concern grew.

"Hey, is there something wrong-?"

"Nothing to worry about, Kid, now go on before the king gets impatient,"

Despite the two being around the same height, the brunet was still able to ruffle the prince's hair in an amicable gesture of roughhousing, though the action was notably half-hearted.

Kou began to wave the other's hands away, before haphazardly deciding to just grab both insulting limbs instead.

The men locked eyes for a second, jester and prince, servant and the served, in resilient quietness, an unspoken competition that could, at any given moment, turn into a burning rivalry. 

The prince weakened his hold, and Hanako quickly, making proper use of the slip-up, wrangled one of his hands free and pinched the blond's cheek roughly, digging blunt nails into freckled skin.

"Tsk tsk, don't want to get on the King's bad side, eh?"

Kou growled in offense, to which his friend only laughed at.

The blond was pat on the cheek light-heartedly, most likely as a nonverbal apology for the harsh treatment, and he felt his gaze soften the slightest bit.

If the furrow of his brows wasn't so noticeable afterwards, then Hanako mercifully didn't remark on it.

The prince made his way over to the left side of the throne room, where another set of doors -grand oak with elaborate gold furnishings- lay in front of him.

The king has been gracious enough to allow him to get acquainted with the castle grounds, as he would be staying within the kingdom for a days. 

The whole concept of an arranged marriage was still so entirely foreign to him, as he'd long believed -and hoped- that he would become part of the royal knights, helping many and punishing the evil few.

And that had been the plan, up until a few weeks ago.

He'd trained his whole youth for the lifestyle of a knight, spent summer days amateurishly slashing at mock-dummies and engaging with the other knights-in-training in practice combat, all to result in callouses upon callouses at a day's end.

And sure, maybe he wasn't the best in the field, perhaps he tired out quicker than most or struggled to hold his sword properly, but he was determined to improve -no matter what!

...

At the very least, he was, before his father had him pack his bags and get ready for marriage, all at the ripe age of nineteen. 

But hey, who was he to complain?

The princess was amazing, beautiful and lovely, the fairest maiden he had ever laid eyes upon!

He was definitely one of the lucky few, if not the luckiest, to able to have such a faithful friend and perfect wife by his side.

Hanako...

His thoughts, loyal as always, drifted back to the jester, his closest ally. 

Although everyone in his royal court would disapprove of the two's proximity, it didn't make the statement any less true.

In the years Kou had known the jester, since the late stages of pure and innocent childhood, they had formed a bond impossible to break, in the prince's very humble opinion.

It was as if a simple nod or look could communicate any elaborate plan or scheme; The two seemed to be on the same chapter, cut from identical cloths, the knight's shield to the other's sword.

Which was why Kou wasn't surprised or bothered, in the slightest, when Hanako went to reach for the princess.

Maybe his methods were a bit.. crude and unnecessary, but that was just Hanako being Hanako, and the blond was just relieved that no bigger catastrophe had occurred.

So, with most worries pushed into the farthest corner of his mind, he redirected his attention back to the large wooden doors, and-

An abrupt guttural sound made him pause in his footsteps.

He looked to the source, towards the left of the threshold, and-

"Aoi!"

Kou broke out into a run as soon as he saw the man, tiring himself out at the other's feet with, nonetheless, palpable excitement.

"It's so good to see you- wait, why are you here? Aren't ya supposed to be out and about, sending notes all across the kingdoms?"

Aoi simply shook his head, a light smile tugging on his lips as he resumed clearing his throat.

"Now now, Prince Kou, the king has allowed me to give you a tour of the perimeters, so,"

With one light push, the oak threshold swung open, and the blond could only marvel at the grand hallway it slowly revealed. 

"Let's begin, shall we?"

Kou grinned widely in turn, feeling a thrill run up his spine and his sunny day only turning brighter.

Aoi was here, what a shock!

Though, he supposes it's a given, no doubt the messenger of a kingdom would be anyplace but in it. 

Still, seeing a familiar face in an entirely foreign territory overwhelmed his initial disbelief with mind-numbing relief, sending Kou's anxious nerves into a merry frenzy.

The prince continues assessing the courier's appearance as the two roam the royal grounds, half-tuning out the other man's lengthy explanations as they passed relic after heirloom of momentous historical importance.

Surely, there must come a point where, if every object is of tremendous significance, wouldn't that make everything of the same worth?

Kou brushes that thought aside, deciding he's never been much of a poet anyway.

Instead, he continues on his observations.

The man's usually long braid is neatly tucked away beneath the worn fabric of his coat, giving the illusion of relatively short, wispy hair, and his traditional buttoned vest and collared shirt are nowhere to be seen.

The only conclusion the prince is able to formulate is that Aoi just dressed up differently depending on the kingdom's customs.

That's all there was to it -probably.

And so, he jumps rambunctiously into conversation, cutting the messenger off from delving into another one-sided spiel.

"So, Aoi! What other places have you gone to? It's been a ton since we've last seen you,"

The man is clearly taken aback by the sudden shift of silence to overeager chattering, but responds courteously nonetheless.

"That is classified information, I'm afraid. The King's matters are strictly to be known only by his closest attendants."

Kou visibly deflates from the reserved reply, but strives on to continue the chat, as persistent as always.

"Ah," he scratches his cheek in slight embarrassment, and allows the pause to carry on for a moment more. "I guess that makes sense- what have you been up to, anyways?"

Aoi only chuckles dryly and, for a single second, the purples under his eyes are emphasized by the soft glimmer of the evening sun, pouring in through the ceiling-high windows. His coffee-brown eyes suddenly looked weary and dull.

The prince doesn't notice it.

"Is this your roundabout way of asking the same question?"

Kou sputters out a series of no's, of course not's, before the other interrupts him with a hand.

"I was simply jesting, Your Highness," 

The blond let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling his heart slow down and slight tiredness spread into his bones.

It was close to evening.

"Say," Aoi starts, and the prince once again shifts his attention to the chestnut-haired man. 

"How are your kin? If you don't mind the question, Your Royal Highness,"

Without skipping a beat, or exceeding past a singular millisecond, Kou replied, "They're okay, though Tiara has been missing you, it's been a while since you've last come to the kingdom,"

That was a lie -one they both were aware of. Aoi has barely just visited the Minamoto Kingdom in the week past, only to ensure that the travel preparations were in order.

Nevertheless, Aoi gives Kou a thin smile, and simply, rhetorically, lets out, "Is that so?"

The two continue with their excursion around the castle, through the courtyard and back, and currently in the palace's study -a room wholly dedicated to books and records belonging to the royal family. 

"I will say, though," Kou's voice drops to a whisper, despite being in the silent solitude of the scriptorium. 

He leans closer to Aoi, and utters, "I think Teru is courting a nobel lady!"

He only receives a pensive hum, and, with the brunet turned completely away from him, is unable to see his expression.

Perhaps it was better that way, for, if they had been face to face, Aoi's creased forehead and the subtle line of sweat formulating across it would've been plainly noticeable. 

"What makes you think that?" 

The words are spoken meekly and softly, so entirely unlike the brunet's usual confidence, as if they were whispers of treason rather than a common question, that it takes Kou a second to process what he's heard.

"Erm, well, I've seen stacks and dozens of letters addressed to a maiden by the name of Akane on his bureau!"

A second passes once more, the birds and insects carry on their chippering outside of the castle walls, and Aoi remained silent.

Hesitantly, the prince continues.

"He must be plenty obsessed with her if they've been speaking that often, and-"

"Your Highness, I believe it's time that I lead you to your personal chambers."

"But don't we still have some other rooms to-"

"I insist, Prince Kou. Dinner will be served in an hour, the King would love for you to join Him at His table."

And with that, the prince and courier made their way through the castle, halls seeming more elongated and sinister than mere seconds before.

At that very moment, a deep, troubling feeling came to fruition in the prince's chest, as murky and thick as the mosquito-infested pond waters he'd seen on his travels to the Yashiro Kingdom. 

Regardless, he dutifully followed behind the courier, hopeful expectations in one hand and trepid premonition in the other.

As soon as she'd retreated back into her dormitory, the princess had, for lack of a better phrase, collapsed onto her bed.

She burrowed her face into her heaps of pillows and quilts, kicked her feet out of her too-tight leather shoes, and screamed.

Well, not audibly, of course, at least not loud enough to send the servants and maids running towards her room.

What came out from her could be, more accurately, described as a pig squeal -but a squeak derived from profound pain and misery, no less. 

She banged her head against her comfortable bedding until she was sure a protruding bump sprouted from the injury, then proceeded to roll onto her back.

What horrible luck she had!

Somehow she'd fallen in front of her betrothed and then, as if that predicament weren't horrid or humiliating enough, she was dragged from her hair by a court jester!

She could already imagine the snickering and snide remarks she'd receive at royal gatherings and tea parties -rumors spread fast when the majority of your kingdom is enclosed by sea, after all. 

She sighed and wallowed in her misery, letting a few loose and stray tears slip from her cheeks. 

Maybe some rest would do her some good -she figured she still had some more time until dinner, and Lord knows she needs strength to muster up the courage to see her prince once more.

Her prince...

She didn't know what to think, what opinion to formulate from the brief interaction she'd had with the man.

Kou.

That was his name, was it not?

She tries the word on her lips, mutters it out into the empty space before her canopy, and finds that she has made no progress. 

Was this how love at first sight felt? 

The polar opposite of mind-breaking or earth shattering -plain indifference.

Mayhaps those adjectives weren't all too true -the prince's attitude was intense, like an all-too playful pup, that it unnerved her to a slight degree.

And then...

There was the matter of the jester.

With his gleaming, mischievous eyes and the fact that he had laughed at her ankles, the princess couldn't decipher what to make of him.

The princess hugs her decorative cushions to her chest as she ponders in thought. 

She idly wonders what the jester's name is.

The idea catches her off guard, and her eyes immediately snap open at the revelation. 

It is then that she realizes just how quick her heart is beating.

Discarding the pillow to the side, she rushes off the bed and to the closest mirror.

Sure enough, her cheeks are flushed and pupils are blown wide.

She brings her hand up slowly to inspect -her strawberry-red face is hot to the touch.

Perhaps she's feeling ill?

That must be it; There is no other reason as to why her heart would accelerate at the mere thought of another man, especially the jester!

With that false notion of security in her reasoning, the princess flops back down onto the bed, back sore from her previous slip and fall.

As her eyelids droop shut, images of the jester flash through her mind -of his chapped and bitten lips, golden eyes, and crow-like laugh.

Slumber doesn't come any easier, but she finds that her heart does feel the most miniscule bit lighter.

Chapter Text

The princess is rudely awoken by multiple knocks on her door.

They start getting louder and louder the longer she doesn't respond, so she, regretfully, clambers off her bed and makes her way through her chamber.

She tiredly blinks sleep from her eyelids, feeling damp and sweaty in all of the worst places, and distantly wonders if her short-lived nap had been worth it.

She's opening the door just before the next knock sounds -just a crack, enough for the hallway's bright light to seep in- and is alarmed to see Akane at the door.

The man looks weary and his regular, unimpressed demeanor is gone. His eyes are frantic and his posture is marginally hunched, possibly ridden by fatigue. 

The princess wants to ask, to fret, to prompt an adequate explication from her friend, but all Akane does is mumble, "The King requests your presence for dinner, Your Highness."

His sepia-colored eyes have a faraway look in them, distant and not at all present, and it successfully dries the questions and concerns she had in the back of her throat. 

Holding back a grimace, she nods softly, and goes to close her room's door, when all-too suddenly, a booted foot stepped in between the gap, blocking the motion.

 She lets out a gasp as Akane's voice cuts through, "Your Highness, I-"

He stutters over his words, uncertain and timid and everything that Akane has never been before.

Had been.

"Nene,"

At that moment, he swung the door open fully, letting out a resounding thump that might've been heard all throughout the castle. 

He ambles over and clings to the princess's shoulders like a lifeline, locking eyes with her in the entrance of her dimly-lit room.

"Nene, I'll be leaving tonight -please don't tell your father of my whereabouts." 

Like a cup of tea much too full, the curiosity and fear overwhelmed her, and Nene cried out.

"Where are you going? What's going on, Akane, what has troubled you so?"

It was if her words had snapped the man out of his fit of insanity, and propelled him quickly into another, for he immediately distanced himself from the princess and looked around the hallway.

He turned towards her again, with newfound resignation blazing in his stare, and gently said, "I'll be back by midnight tomorrow, please do not look or send for me."

And with that, he was gone.

The man had composed himself in record time and, in less than the closing of one's eyes, had vanished from the hallway entirely.

A quiet stillness was left in the broad expanse of the castle's wing, and Nene felt the magnitude of her situation dwarf her. A multitude of questions and inquiries bubbled under her skin like a pot of water left to boil, and a wave of sour incompetence flooded her.

How could she be a queen if she couldn't even help one of her friends?

She couldn't shake off the sentiment that something was deeply wrong, it was as if the emotion had encrusted and scabbed over her every pore in the matter of seconds.

Somehow, though, she collects the scattered and frazzled pieces of her left around in a hurry, fixes her appearance without the assistance of her personal servants, and exits the cold room, making a mental note to take precarious care with her footing from here on out.

On her way to the dining hall, the princess can't help but feel the foreboding weight of the air dragging onto her.

Her footsteps are slow and deliberate, no longer airy and floaty with glee as she would've been a few weeks ago.

It was as if the engagement had signed her death warrant.

The thought threw her into an unplanned stop, the jarring halt's impulse knocking her back a few and taking the breath out of her lungs.

What an odd notion.

It was just an engagement- nothing more, nothing less. As future queen, it was indubitably one of the many sacrifices she must take for her kingdom.

So what if she marries for status instead of love?

She tries to instill the words into her head, repeats them enough times until she's certain she believes herself, then pats her cheeks repetitively in hopes of bringing her spirits up.

In the process, she sets aside her worrisome thoughts about Akane, choosing to focus on her current dilemma.

Her cheeks have gone red by the time she reaches the dining room. 

Her parents are already seated at the table; It seems she was the very last one to arrive. She wills her face not to flush in shame.

Her father is sitting at the head of the table, goblet of wine in hand, and smiles radiantly as she approaches her chair next to him. 

"Nene! You've come just in time, the appetizers will be served soon,"

It's only then that Nene notices that her prince, Kou, has quickly risen from his seat across from her, expression viscerally nervous and anxious.

"P-princess Nene! Your Elegance, my Lady, I believe I did not have the chance to introduce myself properly before!"

He places his left hand over his heart and looks at her determinedly, an inkling of a fluster plastered on his tanned features.

"Ah, there is no need to, please remain seate-" She begins, only to be briskly cut off by the man's eager ramblings.

"My name is Kou, from the esteemed Minamoto Kingdom! I'm honored to make your acquaintance, my fair Lady!"

In a smaller voice, so meek that Nene has to crane her head to hear, he finishes, "I hope to not disappoint, Your Highness,"

Nene thinks that, in another life, he might've captured her heart so.

But in this one, all she feels is fondness. 

One being limited to the kind she feels for the dirty mutt by the muddy street on a rainy day, or the adoration she holds for the gentle swaying of raindrops on a soft breeze, even the tenderness she felt for the blooming plants in the castle's garden might compare to her current sentiment.

A softness that blossomed from the innards of her chest, sprouting like leaves in the dampness of her heart, and enveloped her fully like a cloak made of moss. 

It's not an unpleasant feeling.

But it doesn't set her heart racing. 

Once she feels the boy's (because he's not much older than her, is he?) steady azure gaze fixate on her for far too long, she realizes he's expecting a reply.

She stutters out a, "It's a pleasure to meet you, too," before she adds, "I'm Nene, also,"

She belatedly thinks that maybe her introduction should've come first; The prince visibly brightens, then continues.

He bows reverently, and Nene worries that he'll bump his head on the table if he moves that fast, that she almost doesn't quite catch what the blond does next. 

He begins indiscreetly nudging at someone with his right elbow, navy blue suit folding and wrinkling with the movement, and the princess turns to see who he could be motioning to and-

Oh.

She decides she wants to leave the dining hall right then and there.

The jester from before is already staring at her, mouth agape and hair messy underneath his cap. 

At feeling her accusing stare, the man hastily bows, but not before cracking a sly grin and winking at her. 

Nene cannot fathom if the speed of her aching heart is due to her disdain, unbound irritation towards the man, or...

She forcibly halts her carriage of thought, putting a metaphorical stop to the cream-white horse pulling a wagon filled with treacherous and perfidious notions that she dare not entertain. 

"And this is my Court Jester, Hanako -I brought him along for company,"

Hanako...

The name catches her attention like a hovering, nettlesome fly drawn to the sweet allure of honey, like a moth craving the cold presence of the moon, and she swears it's all she can think about for a solid minute.

She tries to not look any more starstruck than she feels.

It's just a name, nothing to fawn over! Wait, why is she that excited to learn the man's name? Get a grip, Nene!

Like any good jester, Nene supposes, the man doesn't miss the opportunity to poke fun at the prince upon finishing his rushed version of a bow. 

"The Prince would be too lonely without me, Your Majesties, I couldn't bear the thought of him missing my presence!"

At the snide comment, the blond prince smacked the other man over the head, and Nene had to refrain herself from letting out a giggle. 

Somehow, the jester heard it and shot a dashing smile her way, the facial gesture scrunching the twin dots on each cheek and turning them into half-moons; Nene had to avert her eyes for fear of losing her composure. 

Her father let out a boisterous laugh, and the princess attributes his jolly demeanor to having ingested much too some in such little time. 

Her mother only lets out a graceful, courteous laugh to her left.

Nene is stuck between the two expressions, full lips pursed to hide and diminish the heat engulfing her cheeks. 

Soon enough, the servants carried out the entrée -platters of bunyols, a sort of pastry from a faraway land, with a soft dough exterior covered in white speckles of sugar. 

She can't help but notice how the jester's eyes followed the tray, like a stray alley-bound cat preying on its next mouse-meal. 

The sight is the ultimate factor in bringing a full smile to her face, wrenching her heart like a maid would a dirty rag. 

Her line of vision is suddenly obstructed by her mother passing her one of the delicacies, a soft and patient expression adorning her face.

"Would you care for one, dearest?"

Nene nods in confirmation, and by the time her mother has retreated and let Nene's vision fill again, the jester had already placed three bunyols on his plate, with one stuffed clumsily in his mouth.

His face paint had become smudged and faint by his efforts to wipe off the sugary remnants from his lips, gloved hands no doubt dirty by his antics. 

Why was she paying so much attention to him?

"These are delicious, Your Majesty! May I ask who baked the pastry?"

The prince addressed the king with genuine curiosity, blond brows furrowed in inquiry as he waited eagerly for his response. 

Nene ate the appetizers with obvious delight in her seat.

"Thank you for the compliments, Kou. My pâtissier is from the Yomogi family, I can commission a special batch for you and the rest of your family, if you'd like,"

Conversation continues on smoothly, with few pauses in between either to eat or to think and, once actual dinner is served, Nene feels her stomach a little ways from bursting from her bunyols intake.

Still, she pats her belly appreciatively and takes a small serving of the lobster prepared by the castle's chefs.

Dinner carries on amicably, and Nene starts feeling the heavy weight of the food ease her into a state of drowsiness and the kind of contentedness that numbs all logical thought. 

After a tentative sip of his wine (Nene has already lost count of the amount of times her father asked for another filling from a passing servant), the king slammed his hands together, swiftly turning everyone's attention in a matter of seconds.

"In celebration of my daughter's betrothment and upcoming wedding union, I will be hosting a ball tomorrow evening, for the upper class of the kingdom to attend!"

With just those words, all energy is zapped back into her, and she feels her excitement struggling to contain itself. 

But a ball was just what she needed!

If she were in her room, she'd be jumping and twirling with overflowing joy, dancing with her intricately-sewed dresses pretending they were a charming prince.

At least, this time she won't have to pretend.

She spares a glance to Kou, what might be the closest depiction to a sun god based on title alone, and feels a wave of doubt overcome her.

Silently, she dismisses herself from the table, waving off her mother's concerns while her father chatted with her promised prince, and walks off to get some air.

She finds herself on the second floor's balcony before she knows it, hair once in a tidy and well-made bun now let loose. 

She hums out a tune that feels familiar -the way a walk around the castle feels like tracing along her own hand- yet doesn't quite know if she's ever heard before.

Nene looks out to the tranquil sea, the gentle swish-swashing of the waves, and yearns for the liberty that'd come from being a mere fish in the ocean drifting along.

She likes her life as a princess; She loves the attention and care she receives, she adores the luxuries she indulges in, and she likes the company of her friends best-

She was even about to get married to a handsome man!

But..

It felt like something was missing.

As if she were painting a picture without knowing what the scenery before her looked like, or reading a mystery novel with no ending.

Her life lacked luster.

Her few minutes of pondering and philosophical thoughts are interrupted by a sinister voice.

"Thought I'd find you out here!"

She turns quickly to the source of her misgivings, finding the jester in his usual attire, minus his gloves and cap.

Must've discarded them on the way here.

His hair looked soft underneath the hat-

Focus, Nene!

She quirks an eyebrow at his assumption, not willing to divulge anything straight away in such a precarious situation.

"Since radishes need light to grow, y'know? Though I don't think moonlight would be the best source-"

Acting on unladylike impulses, she smacks the jester on the head, leaving the man to clutch at his injured noggin. 

"Hey, what was that for?!"

"That was for speaking so crudely to a lady!"

She then proceeded to deliver a soft tug on the man's hair, confirming her past suspicions. 

It was soft.

"And that was for ripping my hair out earlier!"

The jester grimaced as he caressed his pained areas, rubbing at his scalp where his hair was pulled.

"No need to be so harsh, Princess, geez,"

At Nene's unrelenting pout, Hanako acquiesced.

".. I'm sorry about what happened, I didn't mean for things to go like that,"

The princess's expression softened, and she redirected her scarlet gaze to the waves below.

The sea had turned turbulent in a matter of seconds, waves crashing and breaking against the rocks beneath the castle. 

"The stars are magnificent, are they not?"

"Huh?"

Nene turned to see where the man was looking, finger pointed to the sky above draped in a dark blue tapestry, dotted with holes letting celestial light through. 

"They're.."

The princess struggles to find a proper word to describe them, still too stuck on the magnetic swaying of the ocean and the full moon's mirror-like reflection laying on its surface.

"Beautiful."

Hanako finishes the thought for her, and when she cranes her head to face him, she finds that his brilliant yellow eyes have been locked on her already.

She feels herself blush and heart rate quicken dramatically, and she's certain she's about to have a heart attack.

Nene grips the railings of the balcony with a white-knuckled fist and, hoping to disperse whatever kind of tension they've created, asks, "Tell me, what is my prince like?"

"Kou?"

She tries to ignore the crestfallen tone in the fool's words, and tightens her hold on the balcony to refrain herself from looking back.

She nods her head twice and hopes Hanako can understand the gesture.

"He's..." The man starts, and, if Nene didn't know any better, she would think he sounds resigned.

"The whole family is kind, generous, powerful -they took me in when I was young,"

Out of the outermost corner of her eye, she can see the jester inching closer, treading his hands together as if he were looking for a lifeline.

"I was sick from birth,"

At that, Nene swivels her head to face the man, and utters in disbelief, "Sick with perversion, or?"

"What!"

The jester, with a bewildered look on his painted features, quickly waved his arms in an X position, before exclaiming, "Of course not!"

Then, seeming to remember himself, he lowered his voice and continued, "I meant sick as in with an ailment, Princess!"

The aforementioned ohed in understanding and beckoned for the man to go on.

"My family wasn't poor -by any means- but we weren't significantly wealthy either. They weren't able to purchase the aid that I required, and my condition was worsening at a deathly rate, and.."

Nene stood still with bated breath as she waited for the jester to continue his story, watching as the man's eyes came into and out of focus, as if reliving past year-long memories in the span of seconds.

"The royal family offered to save me."

The jester smiled. It was an unnatural, inhuman thing, a look she's seen on prisoners of war and battle-worn warriors alike.

"And they did -I'm standing here with you, aren't I?"

The sudden change in tone made the princess flinch, a constipated look overtaking her much too quickly for her to prevent it.

".. Yes, you are,"

"Anyway, I've lived a good life within the castle's walls, and the family has always been good to me! Not much to complain about, I lived from rags to riches -what's more to it?"

Hanako continued with his overtly cheery tone, and Nene felt an unnerving uneasiness surround her, locking her in place and freezing her feet to the floor. 

Something about the man's words evaded her, but she could tell that there was deceit enveloped within them.

What portions of them were false or sincere -she did not know.

She was reminded of Akane's nervous and erratic behavior from earlier, his inconspicuous intentions and overall oddness.

What had happened to him?

A shiver ran through her, making her weak in the knees and effectively snapping her body out of its trance. 

"Hanako.."

The man's steely gazed focused back on her, and the princess could have sworn his pupils dilated.

A faint blush spread across the man's cheeks, from ear to ear, and Nene completely forgot her previous turmoil. 

"You.."

The jester began, voice teetering on sheepish before becoming playful and teasing.

"You've really been paying attention to me, haven't ya, Princess?"

Nene only stares at the brunet.

Under the pale light of the moonlight, his tan skin shone like bronze and the color of his amber eyes enraptured her so.

They were the color of honey, of the sun's glorious rays and the brightness that shone into her bedroom every morning. 

And when he smiled, Nene felt-

What did she feel?

"I.."

Her eyes darted from the man's hopeful gleaming amber hues to the light emanating from inside the castle's halls.

"I've got to go, goodnight Hanako!"

And she ran to her room as quickly as a radish-ankled princess possibly could.