Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When I first saw idols, there was light.

It was a cool summer night.

Dozens of bright, sparkling lights all shining on the stage where this idol was, singing and dancing for an audience larger than any imperial army. With his princely grace and smile like starlight, he charmed the whole world. From the bottom of his infinite heart, he told everyone that he loved them. It had always been his dream to stand in front of us all.

As I watched his concert from outside the hall, I was envious. I had no dreams of my own, and they could certainly be nothing like his. My happiness can only be found in contentment with the darkness, where even the moon no longer wanes and waxes.

So I hated him.

I hated myself just as much. On that stage, he shined so brightly that I shielded my eyes. Why couldn’t I be just as happy?

But our eyes met. He waved at me, the moment saccharine, and I felt sick to my core. Then in the moment after, for one beautiful second, I felt the genuine warmth of his smile.

I forgot about my anger. As someone who had always yearned for the sun, moon, and the endless starry sky, I couldn't help myself. I raised my hand and waved back.

☆

“Hello! Have you come to your senses, my friend?”

A chipper voice greeted me as I stirred awake. The events of that night were still fresh in my mind, but that was many nights ago. It was morning now, and I had spaced out in the middle of the street again. The person who spoke to me was—

“King Rama? I was sure I came alone.”

A Servant both skilled in song and the sword — that was I. After Chaldea lost communication with the last Servant dispatched, they felt that they could not trust this mission with anyone else. Personally, I did not want to. Not because I was hungry for glory. The most capable Servant should simply be entrusted with the task. I know that now.

Rama paid my confusion no mind. “Oh! Do you know me? Though I can't say we've been acquainted before. Well, it doesn't matter. We are all friends here, are we not?”

“I suppose?” What else could I say? He was so quick to assume so! “How are you so sure?”

“Why, that's because I am in need of a friend. And I'm sure you are in need of my assistance.”

Rama gestured to the flier in my hand, drawing attention to the letters big and bold: Dream Festival. In this tournament, Servants form idol units to compete for the title of top idol. The winner gets the Grail—a device that can grant a Servant's any wish.

As far as I could tell, joining DreamFest was the only way to secure the Grail in this singularity.

While I did appreciate the lack of violence involved in this tournament, I couldn’t help but feel that a traditional Grail war would be far easier to win. Wars were where my strengths shined. Songs were how my mother died.

“You've been mumbling about destroying idols and whatnot,” said Rama, “so I take it that means you want to participate.”

I touched my mask—a nervous habit. “Yes. But I—”

“Good!” the king of Kosala grinned with all his authority. “Then form an idol unit with me.”

“Wait a moment.” I cleared my throat. “Please wait a moment, King Rama. I haven't introduced myself. I am Gao Changgong, Prince of Lanling—a Saber like you.”

“Well, that is perfect! Your song will raise our spirits and march us into battle.”

“You flatter me. I'm not that excellent a singer or dancer. If you asked me what an idol was, I'm not sure if I could tell you. Truthfully, I was hoping to be a manager. Perhaps a producer.”

“And waste your talent? Surely you enjoy singing more? It's what you're famous for.”

There was a time when my song would rouse a fleet to fight against the odds. It wasn't a song meant to entertain, much less a song meant to gain someone's affection. Idols were loved by everyone. I couldn't understand why they wanted to be. Nothing good ever came out of that.

“Besides,” Rama continued, “the relationship of an idol and his producer requires some semblance of distance, and I don't wish to put any between us. Let us perform on stage as brothers in arms!”

The king threw an arm around my shoulders. I politely pried his fingers off me.

“Please excuse me. How will our alliance benefit you?”

“My beloved Sita was an idol too. On the night of her first concert, after the encore and the death of the applause, she vanished. Then I was summoned here. I wish to know the truth behind her disappearance. I thought that perhaps participating in this tournament would give me some leads.”

“Wouldn't it be better if you aimed for the Grail itself? You could wish her back.”

“What use is the Grail? It is the only reason I am here and she is not. If it won't let me have her, then I must find another way.” Rama seized my hands and squeezed them. “Prince of Lanling! I am not asking you as a king, but as a friend. Will you join my idol unit and help me find my Sita?”

I wanted to say no. I had no reason to. He wasn't after the Grail, and as overfamiliar as he was with me, I still needed an idol unit. Truthfully I didn’t want to participate in DreamFes at all, but knowing both my own mission and Rama’s plight, the tournament was growing difficult to ignore. I, of all people, know the pain of loss overnight.

“It would be advisable to learn more about your friends before you arbitrarily choose them… hmm, but two Servants should be enough. Alright, let me assist you.”

“Oh, Prince of Lanling! You have my thanks!”

“You’re very welcome. Now, onto business: do you know anything about idols?”

Rama beamed. “Not a thing!”

My face darkened. I shouldn’t have accepted his offer so quickly.

“Please don't be discouraged, Prince of Lanling. I am a fast learner! So long as it's for my beloved Sita, nothing is impossible. Let us become idols together!”

I sighed. “Why is it always these types…”

“Hm? Did you say something, my friend?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

On that day, we registered for the tournament, and our shining lives as idols began.

Chapter Text

That was a joke. My apologies.

Like many idols who wanted to break into the industry, Rama and I had a terrible start. Not knowing the first thing about idols, we haphazardly chose a song, rehearsed it, and performed it on the streets without much thought. All idols looked this way to me, playing their inane music and singing their meaningless drivel. Their dancing was not even that elegant.

Had idols performed in my father's court, they would have been slain on the spot for wasting the emperor's precious time. Perhaps I am a harsh critic, but be it within those palace walls and in the thick of bloody battles, if you couldn't survive, you were eaten alive. And even if you could withstand all the arrows and accusations they threw at you, bearing the weight of their words will soon grow cumbersome, and one day you might choose to end it all yourself.

Truly I preferred to keep my head down, but the circumstances in this singularity have forced my hand, so there was no other way around it.

Alas, my first performance as an idol was the most humiliating thing I had ever done.

“Why?”

I groaned as I rested my hands on my knees, catching my breath.

“We sang and danced to something popular. Doesn't everyone like this silly—ah, I mean… wonderful song? Everything should have gone according to plan.”

From our meager audience, a man with a sullen expression replied.

“Simple.” His leather shoes clacked against the pavement as he approached us. His black pinstripe suit stood out in the city’s sea of color. “Your performance was nothing special. You played it safe.”

Although the times I’ve spoken with him are few and far between, I could recognize that somber tone anywhere.

“Sir Salieri?”

“Indeed, I am… No, I am not. Like several of us here, I am merely here to kill the false god which we call ‘idol’. That is what our Master has instructed us to do. Is it not the same for you, Your Highness?”

Antonio Salieri, the infamous rival of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. I was supposed to join him during the first rayshift, but one thing happened after another, and I could only meet him now, after everything. A few days have passed since his arrival. How much of it has changed since then?

“So you are also from Chaldea,” said Rama, who offered me a towel and a bottle of water as consolation. “Wait a minute. If that is the case, then should you not be working together?”

“I was working with another Servant before His Highness arrived,” Salieri explained gravely. “The rules of this idol Singularity are quite similar to the last one. The more fans one has, the greater one’s power. With my compositions and his charisma, that reckless Archer worked as a solo idol unit and gained a following that could rival the reigning champion’s.

“Our plan was to reach the finals, bomb the stadium in the middle of our performance, and take the Grail before any competition could take place. But that man was like the changing wind. He went off script halfway and sang my song properly.”

I furrowed my brow and clenched my jaw. “No one at Chaldea was informed about this.”

Salieri looked away. “Well, yes. I was embarrassed that my composition had lost to sanitized, mass-produced rubbish, so I was grateful for that. But no, that was not my doing.”

“What about Archer?” I asked. The idiot must have done something dangerous again if he wasn’t here with them. “Is he alright?”

Salieri parted his lips. “He lost. The Emperor continued his reign as champion, and our names disappeared into nothingness, forgotten.”

“Surely you don’t mean that,” said Rama. “Even one person must remember you two. I still don’t quite understand this idol business, but Sita always said that to be an idol was to be loved. I believe that someone who loved your shows won’t ever forget them.”

All Salieri could give him was a grimace. “You will see what I mean. In any case, the market is oversaturated. No mediocre song, dance or charm can win you fans in this climate. After all, you are going up against that.”

All of us turned our attention to the huge billboard across the street. In front of three familiar Servants — one winged, one animal-eared, one half-masked — were big bold letters: WE2 PERFORMING LIVE AT XX DOME! GET YOUR TICKETS NOW!

“WE2, pronounced ‘we are’, is the First Emperor’s idol unit. They’re the sole act handled by the agency SIN, which is a subsidiary of the greater Qin conglomerate — the very one who built this Singularity.”

When Salieri laid the facts out for us, everything seemed clear. Our enemy was the one who had everything in the palm of their hand.

Rama scrunched up his nose. “Forgive me, but why is the ‘two’ read like ‘are’? Furthermore, there are three of them, so why—”

“You will need more than talent alone to win this competition, Your Highnesses,” Salieri continued, “and as far as music is concerned, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Yes, I understand.” I touched my mask, reminded of an episode from my childhood. Like a nightingale, my mother would sing me the most beautiful lullaby each night. Then one day, long after the servants washed the stench of blood from the palace steps, I never heard it again.