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i.
What Marx sees is a scrawny little girl, and not the so-called Second Princess of the Anya Kingdom.
(His father, the king, sent him to the Northern Citadel this particular morning to meet his sibling - a girl younger than Camilla, but older than Leon and Elise - and as per usual, he refused to entertain questions Marx might have voiced or give any more information besides that. So here Marx was, standing by the doors of his sister's room, silence heavy in between them since he entered her quarters.)
She stares at him from afar, small hands wrapped around one of the bedposts as if clinging for dear life. Unruly hair - a strange color, was it white or a borderline gray, it was quite hard to tell - falls until her shoulders, thin and small just like her frame. However, what makes Marx frown was the color of her eyes: perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he's quite sure he sees them as red - they are red, such a strange red.
(Of course, he sees the bandages on her fingers and on her head - but he holds his tongue and decides to look at her eyes, those strange red eyes.)
Sister, he says to her.
The girl blinks, and then shrinks back even further away from his sight.
Upon his return to Castle Krakenburg, Marx reports to his father first, on one knee and with his head bowed down. When he's done speaking his father remains silent for quite some time, and he raises his head slightly to look at his father's face.
Marx is honest to admit that for the two hours he spent with his sister, she refused to say a single word, not even her name. He was careful in his approach, but with each step he took closer to her she would hide away, all while staring at him down with those strange eyes of hers. Perhaps his father would be displeased with his report, but no, Marx sees a strange glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips.
The pawn will speak soon enough, Garon says, and that's the only thing Marx heard as Garon started mumbling to himself. His eyes are set far away, face twisting into an unrecognizable, ghastly expression - Marx swallows at the sight.
Before Marx leaves the throne room, Garon instructs him to continue his visits to his sister - and that's the last conversation they have for the day.
ii.
Marx's visits to his sister whose name he is yet to know are limited to two hours in the morning, and after that he is to return to Castle Krakenburg to resume his lessons. While the adjustment of his daily schedule was sudden; he just welcomed the change of pace, seeing it as a challenge.
(In his spare time, Marx also took it upon himself to investigate the matter of his new sister with utmost care, away from the prying eyes of his father's men and from his father himself. Often had he heard soldiers and guards alike talking about the death of King Sumeragi of Byakuya, the kidnapping a princess of the Byakuya Kingdom and also one of Anya, and some 'spoil of war' from a recent skirmish - Marx could put two and two together, but further investigation couldn't possibly hurt.)
It's Camilla who picks up on Garon and Marx's conversation the previous day out of pure coincidence, or so she says. She inquires him of their new sibling, asking him of her name. Sheepishly Marx looks away, telling Camilla that he has yet to know it himself.
Oh, no matter - when will father allow us to see our new sister as well, dear brother? Camilla asks him before he's to depart for the Northern Citadel, the smile on her lips reaching her eyes.
Perhaps soon, Camilla, he replies. I'll see you for lunch.
He arrives at the Northern Citadel in a matter of minutes, and before he's to see his sister in her room, he makes his way to the kitchen first. A plate of fruit waits for him on one of the counters with strawberries, apples, pears, and oranges all neatly cut in bite sized portions. There's even a dash of cream and blueberries on the side, a complimentary bonus from the cook whom Marx had talked to for awhile, who stated that his sister ate little of her meals but seemed to always finish her dessert, especially if it was fruit. He also applauds Marx for being so thoughtful for his sibling to the point that he had asked him, a mere chef and servant, for assistance. The man even offers to carry the plate for him as he goes to visit his sister, but Marx kindly rejects the offer.
(From the cook he also learns that one of the respected knights of Anya, Sir Gunter, had been looking after his sister along with three servants for a couple of weeks now, under the orders of the king. Upon further inquiry, the chef also tells him that his sister had been placed in the Northern Citadel the day after the king's recent skirmish.)
He knocks softly on his sister's door before opening it with his free hand and the sound of the door creaking open makes her look up from her bed, hair disheveled and eyes blinking quickly. At the sight of Marx she's about to slip out of her bed and hide, but her nose catches the scent of fruit: sweet, juicy, delicious fruit.
When he closes the door behind him, he's nearly taken aback as his sister suddenly stands so close to him, eyes set on the plate on his hands with her mouth agape. When he finds his voice, he clears his throat, and she looks up at him.
There's no mistake, her eyes are truly red - crimson even, they are bright like sparkling wine or the spider lilies Camilla cared for in the castle gardens. They are strange yet they suit her, for only now did he also see that his sister also had a pale complexion like himself, but thankfully not as white as the dress she wore that drowned her with its length.
Have you eaten? he asks, and she shakes her head.
She stares at the fruit again while Marx eyes the couch at the room's center.
He moves slowly towards it, and she follows.
They sit at both ends of the couch with the fruit platter in between them, and she's quick to consume the pears. Marx only takes a few pieces of apples and when he's finished eating she stares at him, red eyes surveying him up and down.
... You don't like it? she asks.
He looks at her for a moment before shaking his head.
(It's the first time he'd hear her voice and it's small and soft, akin to a whisper.)
No, it's not that. I've already eaten. Feel free to eat the rest.
He pushes the plate to her side of the couch, and gingerly she takes the plate into her hands and positions it on her lap, a small smile on her face. He's the one staring at her this time until she's halfway through the plate, and he blinks when she suddenly stops eating, settling for staring at her bare feet.
... I'm sorry, she says.
... What for?
I thought you were a scary person, but Gunter tells me you're my brother and I shouldn't be scared.
He watches as she takes an orange and begins nibbling on it.
I'm sorry, Big Brother... she trails off.
... Marx, he finishes.
She turns to him, her lips smeared with fruit - and smiles.
Marx, she repeats. Big Brother Marx.
Correct, a smile tugs on his lips. And you, little sister, your name is...
... Kamui, she says. My name is Kamui.
When Marx returns to Castle Krakenburg, Camilla sees him. She just finished her etiquette lessons and they decide to walk through the halls together, with Marx heading for the throne room and Camilla heading for the ballroom for her dance lessons. With a soft smile, she asks Marx of his progress.
Has our sister finally graced you with her name? she asks, her voice almost in sing-song.
Yes, Marx clears his throat, color lightly dusting his cheeks. ... Her name is Kamui.
Kamui... My, what a darling name.
It's quite strange, in my opinion.
Mm, maybe - but perhaps all those three days of attempts were worth the struggle?
Marx doesn't reply to that and he clears his throat once more, much to Camilla's amusement. And finally, after three days of two-hour visits to the Northern Citadel, he now knows of his sister's name and reports this to his father.
iii.
Papers are sprawled about the floor of Kamui's room - they are crude drawings of people she would see everyday in the Northern Citadel. There's a drawing of Gunter, Joker, Flora and Felicia, the cook, and even the guards stationed by the Citadel's entrance. Kamui's about to draw one of Marx when he enters her room, and she smiles and waves her paper at his face.
She ropes him into drawing with her, shoving papers, crayons, and pencils into his arms. Soon enough he produces a picture of her with her unruly hair and all, and he frowns for he wasn't able to capture the red of her eyes exactly with crayons or pencils, but she's absolutely fascinated with the drawing and claims that it's beautiful, beautiful. As she proceeds to redo her drawing of him, Marx starts to draw Camilla, then Leon, then Elise.
He draws images of his siblings from entirely from memory: Camilla being the picture of calm as she practiced embroidery in the castle parlor, Leon curled up at the castle library's couch with a book in his hands, and sweet little Elise in peaceful slumber in her room. He's also meticulous to add the little details, like the arabesque pattern on Camilla's dress, Leon's scrunched brow as he read, the light flush on Elise's cheeks.
Kamui stares at the finished drawings of his siblings with a furrowed brow for quite some time, until Marx picks up the drawing of Camilla.
She's your big sister Camilla, he tells her as he places the drawing in her hands.
Her eyes widen, she stares at the drawing again then turns to him with a big smile on her face.
I have a big sister? she asks.
You also have a little brother. His name is Leon.
He likes books?
Very much so. And this is your little sister, Elise.
Elise... she's so small!
Marx spends his remaining time with Kamui talking about his siblings, their interests, their personalities, and pretty much everything he can tell Kamui about them - she listens to his every word with bright eyes, until to the very last moment when he is about to leave. He's about to step out of her room when she tugs his sleeve, and he sees that Kamui has his drawings in her arms and a frown is on her lips.
I want to see them, she whispers.
He chuckles and rests his hand on her head, ruffling her hair lightly.
You'll see them soon, little princess. This I promise you.
And that promise is eventually fulfilled: Marx respectfully asks for Garon's permission to introduce Kamui to his siblings and with a shrug, he grants it - Camilla, Leon, and Elise meet Kamui on a one cold winter morning and after a few days, Marx is no longer alone when he visits Kamui. Sometimes they all go together to the Northern Citadel, or sometimes it would only be two or three of them to visit - but nevertheless, Kamui would always greet her visitors... no, her siblings with a smile and with open arms.
iv.
It's Elise who asks the important questions without exactly knowing their weight, and she does so with insistence.
(Sometimes Marx finds himself at a loss for words when she does this, not because he doesn't know the answer but it's the exact opposite. The answers are clear in his mind but stuck in his throat where the words are ready to be spoken, but where does he even start to explain to Elise truths that she may not comprehend, or truths that she may refuse to hear?)
She asks Marx one of those questions when he tucks her in for the night, the layers of blankets thicker than usual to keep her warm from the winter cold. He's fluffing up her pillows and she watches him with wide eyes that stare at him in earnest, waiting for him to finish. When he's done and she can see his face under the candlelight, she speaks.
Why does Big Sister Kamui stay in the Northern Citadel, not with us? she says.
Marx pauses and Elise waits for his reply, her eyes still on him. For some reason he shifts away from the light and doesn't look her in the eyes, but he puts a hand on top of her head and pats her head in slow, soothing motions.
... Does Father dislike her? she mutters, a frown on her lips.
No, Marx replies a little too quickly. It's not that.
Then why?
... I'm sure Father has his reasons.
Elise has heard those words before, and that's one of Marx's usual responses to her questions concerning their father. Sometimes she would let it slide and shrug it off, but today was not one of those days. Really, why is it that they could only see their sister for a few hours? Why is it that after those hours have passed, they're no longer allowed to see her? To begin with, why has their father set up this arrangement?
I'm sure that without us, Big Sister must be lonely, she pouts. Right?
... Perhaps you may be right. But Elise.
Yes, big brother?
I'm sure that before she met you, Camilla, and Leon, she felt much more lonely. Our time with her may be short now, but soon enough, I'm sure that we can all be together.
You mean it?
I make no promises, but I'm sure that day will come.
Elise breathes in and snuggles into her covers, a smile on her lips. Marx pats her head one last time, and he's about to blow the candle by Elise's bedside table when she speaks again.
Big brother?
Yes, Elise?
Whatever Father's reasons are, I hope that someday he lets Big Sister Kamui stay with us here, too.
A smile tugs on Marx's lips.
... I hope so, as well.
v.
Milady, you are a princess of Anya, Gunter tells her one day.
The Second Princess of Anya, she adds.
Correct. And you have a responsibility, not only to your Father and to your siblings, but to everyone in Anya.
She frowns, and after a while she looks up at Gunter.
What does that mean?
It means, Gunter chuckles, that you have a duty.
A duty?
A duty that someday, you'll understand. But for now, you need to learn.
Learn what?
Many things. Starting tomorrow...
For a first time in a long time, Marx is alone when he visits Kamui again. He brings a plate with him again, filled with a different variety of bite-sized fruit than that of what he brought last time. When he enters her room, Kamui doesn't stare at the plate, but she stares at the papers in her hands.
He stares at her, and he sees a girl that is far from the scrawny little girl that she was before: no longer was she the girl who clung to her bedposts, gone were those dresses far too big for her, and gone was the unruly, uncombed hair. Camilla took great care of her and made it a point that she would make her sister look her best, and she started by instructing Kamui to comb her hair regularly to at least tame her locks somewhat. Next, Camilla gave Kamui her old dresses, which thankfully were her size. Camilla tried also to introduce shoes to Kamui, but for some reason she refused to wear them. Nevertheless, shoes or no shoes, Kamui was certainly shaping up to be a princess.
Math is hard, Kamui says with a pout.
Elise feels the same way, Marx chuckles. I suppose you dislike your history as well?
... Sometimes it's dull. Sometimes it's alright.
I see. Well then, little princess. What lessons do you enjoy so far?
Oh, oh! Etiquette is fun! I get to learn with Camilla! And also, dancing!
Oh? You're a dancer, little princess?
She laughs a bit before she shakes her head.
The instructor said I'm... um... descent?
Decent.
Yes, that! I don't really get all the steps, but I think dancing's fun!
And what are you learning to dance now?
Waltz!
Can you show me then?
And that's what she does, Kamui sets her papers aside, gets off the couch and attempts to perform the first steps of the waltz. Marx smiles at the sight, her hand movements are slightly uncoordinated with her feet, but still she tries with utmost determination etched on her face. Suddenly she takes hold of his hand and she insists they dance together, leaving the fruit plate untouched and Kamui's math papers unanswered.
(She eats most of the fruit again when they're done dancing though, and Marx makes sure she finishes her math while she eats.)
vi.
She gains a fascination for adventure and fantasy, no thanks to all the books she had managed to find while walking aimlessly around the Citadel. This is the period when her academic progress begins to steadily slip for her mind drifts off to imaginary worlds, where she could be able to roam freely and experience many things, to see beautiful sights and to meet so many people.
(Kamui does try to keep up with her lessons, although to a suitable amount only - Gunter would be certainly displeased to hear that she was being negligent with her studies, but how much more for her siblings, or her father? What would they think of her then? What words would they say to her? No, no, no - she must keep up the guise of interest in her lessons, in order not to disappoint.)
The best story out of the books she found would be that of a rogue heroine running away from her home to see the world, with only a bow and a quiver strapped to her back. It's a fantastic tale that draws her in and never lets go, and she reads it every night before Gunter or Joker comes into her room to tuck her in. There are many words she fails to understand but that didn't stop her at all, she is eager to learn what they mean in order to advance into the story, to know more of the adventures of the girl and to know more of the places she goes.
One day she asks Gunter if she was to practice archery and he frowns at her, questioning her interest. He tells her that soon she is to learn the way of the sword as it is the traditional art of war practiced in Anya, but she states that she wasn't interested - finally after a few exchanges, Gunter tells her that her father would most likely disagree with her learning archery, and that's enough of an argument to make Kamui speak no more of the matter.
But as she reads her book over and over, she finds herself more motivated to learn archery so instead she teaches herself, scouring for any more books she might find helpful in her pursuit for archery. She also subtly leads her history tutor on the topic of archery and he tells her a few things, such as basic materials hunters used back then to make archery equipment before going back to their actual topic. That's enough for her, and when no one's eyes are on her, she tries to find a bow - or better yet, materials that could help her make her own.
One day she does succeed in finding one, she finds a wooden bow and a quiver of old arrows down in the Northern Citadel's dungeon. Carefully she stashes it away in her room, and when the day is done and when she's sure no one's around, she slips out of bed and takes the bow and arrow in her hands. Little moonlight streams into her room and she walks towards the windows, pushing the curtains away to let more of the light into her room.
And that's when she sees a blur of yellow and brown, amidst the trees.
Kamui frowns, she sets the bow and arrow aside and struggles to open her windows. She manages to reach and remove the bolt that fastens it, and after setting the bolt aside, she opens her windows. The cold winter air that greets her makes her shiver, and along with it she hears a voice along with a swishing sound.
... Hah!
She squints and she recognizes the figure to be Marx, face scrunched up as he repeatedly swung a long thin object, something that looked like wood. She stares as he swung the wood in repeated motions, and her eyes widen when he began to move in different directions: slide to the left, block; move to the right, strike; a quick step backwards, block; a quick step forward, strike. Kamui's gaze followed his every move, it was almost as if he were dancing, but it was a strange, a very strange dance.
The bow and arrow is left on the floor, and from afar, she watches him and listens to the sound of the wood slicing through the air.
(A few days later, when Gunter returns from his mission, she tugs at his hand and asks him when was he going to teach her the way of the sword.)
vii.
She's eleven years old when her face heats up and a smile spreads on her face when she sees Marx, and there's also the fluttering of her heart that comes with it - it's strange, and sometimes she stares up at the ceiling at night, asking herself why. Perhaps it was the fact that she was able to see him again for his visits or the visits of her other siblings were becoming less frequent, but she wasn't as excitable when Camilla, Leon, or Elise would come by. No, it only happens if it was Marx, when she would feel giddy and everything seems bright - and that's when she takes out one of her favorite storybooks, rereading a story about a prince and a princess.
... The prince and the princess loved each other and because of that, they lived happily ever after, Kamui reads.
She's read the book for the umpteenth time to the point that she could dictate it word by word with her eyes closed, especially page 21 where the there's an image of the prince and the princess holding hands and their foreheads are pressed together. Kamui traces the outline of the image with her fingers, a frown on her lips. For some reason the story suddenly seems different, not so exciting as it was before.
She rereads those words until her eyes droop, and she falls asleep with the book in her hands.
As she sleeps, the word love rings in her head the most, and a voice in her head says: 'you love him'.
She's eleven years old and she's not quite sure what that means, but she'd like to think that she loved Marx the way the princess in the storybook loved her prince, too.
Eventually she's no longer eleven, and as she continues to learn, somewhere along the way she becomes truly aware of what did she feel for Marx when she was eleven.
And she wallows complete humiliation, for no other person than herself.
When Kamui was thirteen years old, shame comes to her at full force, wrapping its arms around her and chiding her for having such inappropriate feelings for her brother. At the sight of him her face does still heat up but she refused to meet his eyes or to cross his path if possible, hands covering her face. Shame takes no mercy in embedding guilt and disgust in herself, and it has led her to many sleepless nights. She talks to herself, saying that perhaps she was merely confused back then for she rarely had company aside from Gunter, Joker, Flora and Felicia; that she was only a child and she couldn't have known, and then she continually scolds herself for mistaking love to be her utmost respect and admiration for Marx - and so, when she is fifteen those feelings of 'love' have gone, now replaced with a determination to support her Lord Brother in any way she could possibly offer.
But shame still chides her. It claims that she is only using her 'respect' as an excuse to hide those feelings, forbidden feelings unbecoming of a princess of Anya and of a sibling.
You still love him, the imaginary creature tells Kamui one day as she stares at her reflection in the mirror.
(Shame takes form of herself, her eleven-year old self, the one with the bright eyes and sweet smile reserved only for Marx. It is now what the mirror reflects, not her current self, and it stares right at her. However, Kamui does not flush red nor does she hide her face in her hands but she stares right back at herself, eyes bright with a different light.)
I do love him, she declares to herself with a steady voice. And whatever happens, as the Second Princess of the Anya Kingdom and as a sister, I will stand by my Lord Brother's side.
Shame smiles, laughs, then disappears - and it never shows itself before her again.
viii.
Kamui can only look down at the carpet as she kneels down before her father, who had called for her at the break of dawn. Her eyes widen as Garon tells her that right now she is to command an army to victory on her lonesome, without the help of her siblings or anyone else, and if it ended horribly or in failure... he paused and looked down at her with a sneer, cold fingers lifting her chin up for her to meet his eyes, eyes that were as dark as the night that engulfs the whole of Anya.
He doesn't complete his sentence, not a single word even as he releases her - but the way his fingernails scratch and drag along the skin of her jaw sent a clear message that he no longer needed to say, leaving her to only nod in understanding, a shiver slowly running down her spine.
She glances at her sword, the gold glistening against the light of the setting sun along with the fresh blood at its tip. Kamui flicks her sword once, and she watches as the action causes the blood to leave her sword and to splatter in droplets on the rugged soil. The drops resemble splotches of paint and she eyes her sword as the brush, meaning that she is the painter and that she was to paint the soil she stands on with only one color...
Her grip on her sword tightens.
... Kamui.
The reaction is automatic: she turns to the sound of his voice but she stops halfway, her hand instinctively covering the patch of blood on her left cheek. Instead of looking up her eyes turn away, back to the dead man's corpse that lies near her feet. The long gash on his chest is wide and angry, it's where she struck the man with her sword after he had attempted a sneak attack on her earlier.
Kamui, Marx repeats.
Slowly she turns to him, a shaky hand covering her left cheek. Her eyes blink rapidly, and her lips are pursed together.
... Let's go home, he tells her.
He extends a hand to her and she nods shakily, taking his hand. He helps her up into the saddle and tentatively, she puts her hands on his waist.
(It was like when they were kids, when she insisted that they would ride together. He would always tell her not to be scared and to hold on tight.)
... Hold on tight.
She laughs, and it sounds hollow.
... I know.
That is her maiden battle, a successful one but there are many yet she has to face - when the time comes again when her father summons her and commands to do her bidding once more, she takes her sword in her hands and takes comfort in the fact that if she is to wield her sword in the battlefield, she has the power to keep her family, friends, and the people of Anya safe.
(That does nothing, however, to ease the guilt and nightmares that plague her every night.)
ix.
The blood splattered on her hands is starting to itch.
Her sword is suddenly a weight that her hands cannot carry.
She breathes in and out, attempting a steady pace but each breath is strangely heavy.
Her eyes shift to see Leon, and she sees that his brow is furrowed and his mouth is slightly agape.
Camilla and Elise are saying something, she can see their lips moving but none of their words reach her ears.
Finally her eyes, crimson eyes, slowly meet with a pair of copper ones.
The sun is setting on the battlefield and they're the only ones left standing on it, with corpses of Byakuya soldiers at their feet. The Anyan army has left ahead of them and perhaps they should move as well, but no - Kamui sets herself a fair distance away from her siblings, heart heavy and body trembling.
... They called me, Kamui breathes, ...A princess of Byakuya.
Darling, that's - Camilla starts, but Kamui shakes her head and glares at her. At all of them.
Tell me. Were they lying?
No one answers. Marx and Camilla exchange glances, but not a single word comes out of their mouths.
The soldiers of Byakuya called me the long lost princess, Kamui's voice rasps this time.
Sister, surely they're lying - Leon tries, but Kamui cuts him off.
The Crown Prince of Byakuya, Prince Ryouma himself... claimed that I am his sibling.
That can't be true! Elise tugs at Camilla's arm. Kamui is our sister, right!?
Again, no one answers. Camilla closes her eyes and lowers her head. Marx maintains his gaze on Kamui, his lips pursed and eyes still steady.
Kamui's whole body shakes, and her sword falls to the ground.
... So it's true? Is it, Lord Brother? she whispers.
Marx breathes in slowly.
... I'm sorry, Kamui.
They don't see her three days after that, with Kamui locking herself in the Northern Citadel. Eventually she returns to the castle to be promptly hugged by Elise and Camilla at sight and Kamui falls to her knees at the combined weight against her and the two princesses fall with her, both of them breaking down into a mess of tears and sniffles. Marx and Leon watch from a distance, until Camilla pulls them into the huddle and so they stay there for a while in the castle gardens, their arms wrapped around each other.
In between all of them, the word sibling is left unsaid.
(And after that day, she never called him 'Lord Brother' anymore.)
x.
They talk about Death once.
Rather, only Kamui does - Marx has long met him so Death is no stranger: Death was the invisible judge of a battlefield, creeping dread in every warrior’s body each step they take into his court. Death was every weapon possible in a warrior’s hands, cruelly piercing through flesh and ripping it apart, basking in the blood of whom it has reaped. He has taken more lives than he desired and more than Marx could allow, victory tasting quite bitter when he sees the casualties on his side.
(Death stands right behind one’s back with its bony hands resting at one’s shoulders - a bitter rival, a cruel ally. Only when she mentions him, Marx is reminded that Kamui as well was now playing a game with Death, and a knot forms in his stomach.)
It’s a topic she pursues with a firm voice - war is war, no one knows what will and would happen, no one knows if the day’s tactics would lead to victory or defeat, and of course, no one knows if the enemy’s weapon would strike them down today, the preceding battle or if they would ever make it through the battles at all. As he listens, his brow furrows when the conversation turns slowly to a direction that makes her pause, catch her breath and swallow before she begins to speak again, her message revealed after her prelude.
In short she talks about her hypothetical death and the aftermath of it, her voice and face strangely calm as she tells him that they should not take her death too heavy to the heart if ever she is to pass away, as the Princes and Princesses of the Anya Kingdom, they had their own responsibilities towards their Kingdom and certainly her death should not lead them to forget this, their country was of more grave importance than she, who was not of -
Her monologue comes to a halt when he suddenly takes hold of her by the shoulders, crimson eyes forced to look up at copper ones that scrutinize her with such intensity. Both his gaze and grip on her are strong and she doesn’t dare squirm away from it - as Marx leans his head downwards to her own, Kamui’s breathing grows slower as the distance between them closes, and -
Gently, he presses his forehead against hers.
She blinks and her lungs recall how to breathe at their normal pace; no words escape his lips and the grip on her shoulders loosen slowly. The silence that now surrounds them makes her throat dry - she lifts her head ever so slightly as to look at his face: his eyes are closed, his brow was furrowed and his lips form a straight line. As she stares, the words she wants and has yet to say become a lump stuck in her throat and she swallows it down, closing her eyes as she did so.
When she decides to swallow those words it is her loss, and without a single word said he has won. Her pursed lips and the heavy feeling in her chest loosens when she exhales through her mouth, releasing a sigh that makes her feel lighter.
(Her arms find their way on his back and like a mother would to a crying child, she pats his back, each pat so light he fears that it is the motion of a light breeze and not of her warm hands. It makes him shiver slightly.)
Minutes later when he pulls himself away and lets go of her shoulders, no words are still exchanged - but perhaps, in that moment, they were in mutual agreement that the silence was much more meaningful.
She smiles at him and it reaches her eyes - eyes of crimson, shining ever so bright.
His heart throbs with a strange dull pain.
(He shrugs it off and settles for smiling instead.)
xi.
Kamui, at her age and despite her duties as one of the commanders of the Anya army, still continued to pursue her dance lessons back at Castle Krakenburg if time would allow her - this devotion brought the old dance tutor to tears, saying that never had he seen or taught an Anya royal with such dedication and passion to the art of dance.
(There is truth, and even Kamui acknowledges it, that her dancing was less fluid than Aqua’s- but nevertheless the blue-haired dancer was her goal, which was why she made every effort she could to improve herself, not to be recognized as a rival to Aqua but a dancer who would be equal to her, someone who Kamui could share her passion for dancing with.)
Back then when they were younger, there were instances where Marx would make his way to his office and as he passed by the ballroom, he would stop as his ears would catch the sound of a symphony escaping from the large oak doors - it was a sign that Kamui was having her lesson and if he had some time to spare, Marx would watch her dance from afar, standing close by the door he pushed ajar with a steady hand.
Dance was easy to watch but admittedly for people who remain as spectators, one cannot fully tell what a dancer wishes to portray if they only see bodily movements. That is why a dancer should not only let their emotions flow through their body, but also to their faces: a good dancer must be able to move an audience both through physical and emotional means. That was the first goal of dancing, and Kamui took that goal to heart. She once admitted to him that sometimes she would associate the music she danced to with a story she had read before, which would explain why perhaps, that depending on the day's symphony; different expressions would grace her face and she would perform her steps with a certain fervor: a smile combined with quick steps and strides to a slow piano piece of a waltz; a knit brow, pursed lips, and a pattern of spins and turns to the melody of a violin.
If not tactical tomes Leon forced her to read or books of warfare, Kamui was notably fond of novels with fantasy elements. As she danced the waltz, was she was portraying the rogue heroine of her favorite adventure novel with those fleeting steps of hers with a saccharine smile on her face? As the violin descended into a more melancholic tune, was she trying to convey the grief of a mourning mother in one of the famous Anya myths through the painfully slow twists and turns of her body? Many times had he stood by the door to watch her performance for the briefest moments, and every time he would engage himself in a game, attempting to identify what she was trying to convey through dance.
… Marx?
It takes a moment for her voice to reach his ears and when it does, he sees that she regards him with squinted eyes. He stands by the doorway, almost hidden in shadow and far from where she stood, but he could still see the ash gray of her hair; painted with shades of oranges and yellows produced by the flickering flames of the few lit candelabras of the ballroom. With silent strides he steps into the light, moving away from the doorway to the nearest candelabra - Kamui stops squinting when she is able to see his features better and she blinks, tilting her head slightly to the side.
How long have you been watching? she asks, her voice soft.
It depends on how long have you been dancing.
She shrugs and looks down at her bare feet. The long braid of her hair that rests on her left shoulder shifts at the movement.
(It's a habit she has yet to outgrow, shifting away from eye contact whenever she would tell a white lie.)
Not that long, she replies.
I disagree, Marx eyed her forehead which gleamed with sweat under the candlelight. It's late, Kamui. You ought to get some rest.
She laughs.
I can say the same for you. I suppose you're still up doing paperwork? Then I see no reason for me not to stay up a little longer, seeing as you don't plan on sleeping anytime soon as well.
He sighs.
The dance you were doing earlier.
What about it?
It is a dance meant for two, is it not?
Kamui opens her mouth to respond, but she closes it when Marx starts taking quiet strides towards her. He stops when he stands in front of her, he reaches out for her left hand and puts it on top of his own, and then pulls it gently towards him. She doesn’t resist the motion, but Kamui looks up at him with an eyebrow raised, the crimson of her eyes highlighted by the candlelight.
Marx closes his eyes and bows his head down to bring his lips to her knuckles, planting a light kiss on them.
Warmth spreads into her cheeks as he speaks to her, his voice solemn.
A dance, if I may.
Kamui stares at him: the Crown Prince of Anya, respected military leader and peerless opponent; bowing down his head to a woman only to ask for a dance late at night in a dimly lighted ballroom? Her mouth opens to speak (how inappropriate of a gentleman, she is about to say), but her amusement comes out first in the form of soft laughter.
Her laughter isn’t a proper response to his request, but they dance anyway with their left hands entwined, her right hand on his shoulder and his right hand on her hip. They dance not the motions of a waltz or a tango, or any of dances both of them have been accustomed to, and neither of them lead their dance.
There is only the fluid movement of both their feet sweeping through the ballroom floor.
(There is no piano or violin piece to dance to, but the steady rhythm she hums softly with a gentle smile on her lips and the warmth of her hand that he could feel even through his glove, was enough.)