Chapter Text
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The great hall, a vision of polished marble and glittering gold, was meant to celebrate a llif. Hundreds of nobles, dressed in silks and brocade, filled the air with their laughter and the gentle tinkle of wine glasses. Yet for the young princess, perched upon her gilded throne, the opulence felt like a gilded cage. She watched with detached boredom as commoners queued to offer her gifts, their prostrated forms and whispered praises a hollow echo in the cavernous room. Standing sentry beside her, her personal knight, Shinonome Akito, was a bastion of perfect stillness. His spine was a ramrod straight line, his gaze fixed straight ahead, yet she felt the subtle warmth of his quick, assessing glances in her direction.
"I confess, Akito," she murmured, a soft sigh hidden by the delicate fan in her hand. "This gilded cage grows stifling. To think Mother would expend such effort on a mere celebration when the realm itself is crumbling."
He turned his head with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes, the color of a summer forest, softening as they met hers. With a graceful, solemn bow, he knelt before her. He took her hand and, with a touch so gentle it was a question, pressed his lips to her knuckles.
"My princess," he said, his voice a low, steady balm. "Does my lady wish for me to petition the Queen to end the revelry?"
She offered a fleeting, quiet huff, a ghost of a blush gracing her cheeks. "No, Akito. I must keep up appearances before the kingdom. Mother already has enough to bear with this ongoing war. To be seen as a child is a weakness we cannot afford."
A flicker of tension passed through him, a brief tightening of his jaw that only she, who watched him so closely, would ever notice. He rose and returned to his post. "Yes, my princess. As you wish. Nonetheless, I will accompany you until the very last dance." A genuine smile, quickly masked by her fan, touched her lips. His quiet presence was all the company she needed.
The night wore on in a pleasant haze of small talk and subtle glances. But as the musicians struck up a more somber tune for the royal waltz, she noticed the change. The familiar perfection of his posture began to fray. His breath came in jagged, shallow gasps, and the hand that rested on the hilt of his sword clenched, the knuckles turning white.
"Akito?" she asked, a thread of concern entering her voice. "What ails you? You are not yourself." He did not respond. His eyes were wide, vacant, staring past her, past the dancing crowd. His body was a statue of terror and rage, an unnerving stillness that froze her heart. "Shinonome Akito!" she cried, her voice echoing in the sudden lull of the music. "I command you to tell me at once what is wrong!"
She was not heard. The soft chatter of the ballroom died to a whisper as her knight drew his sword with a chilling, clean sweep of metal. In a single, horrific second, he strode forward and without a word, without a sound, he severed the Queen's throat. A guttural scream tore itself from the princess's lungs as she scrambled from her throne, the heavy folds of her gown catching on the velvet steps.
Panic-stricken, she watched as the knight she loved began a slaughter, his sword a red-stained blur in the candlelight. He stabbed and slashed, a dance of death across the elegant ballroom floor, painting the walls with the blood of her people. She huddled in a corner, sobbing, her body wracked with fear. The once loud, magnificent room was now a silent charnel house. He was the only one left standing, his silhouette outlined by the flickering fires of the chandeliers. Akito approached her. She threw her arms over her head, letting out a final, broken cry. "Please, don't!—"
He froze. The movement was so abrupt, so violent, that it seemed to tear him apart. He fell to his knees, dropping the bloody sword, clutching his head with a pained grunt. His face, once an impassive mask of murder, contorted in agony. In the dim light, she could see his eyes—glowing with a sickening, unnatural red that fought a desperate war with the gentle green she knew so well.
"My princess…" he managed, his voice a broken whisper, "It seems… the enemy has taken hold of me with their magic." With shaking hands, he reached for the sword and presented it to her. He smiled, a soft, heartbreaking curve of his lips, his features twisted in a fresh wave of pain. "Please, my princess… kill me, and run away as far as you can."
"Akito…!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face. "I cannot do that! That is an unfair thing to ask of me!" She reached out, her hands trembling. "Please, you must resist! My knight, don't give up! I love you!"
His eyes, wide and filled with a love so pure it was a physical force, softened. He took her hands, his touch as steady as ever, and guided them to the hilt of the sword he now held. A single tear, a traitor to the unnatural red in his eyes, rolled down his cheek. "If you do… then I will know your love is true." He guided her hands to his neck, placing the cold steel against his skin. "End me, my princess. I am honored it is you who ends me." He knelt, just as he had on the day she'd first knighted him, his head bowed, his body a silent offering.
She remembered that day: the weight of the sword in her hands, the ceremony that felt more like a play. She remembered looking at that boy, his perfect posture, his beautiful eyes, and feeling her heart beat a new, unfamiliar rhythm. She had stood from her throne then and placed the sword on his shoulder. "Shinonome Akito, do you swear to serve me, until your inevitable death?"
His voice had been a firm, unwavering pledge. "Yes, my princess. I will move oceans, skies, and earth for you if necessary. You will not have to fear anything as long as I am by your side."
She softly whispered, the blade now resting against his neck.
"Shinonome Akito… do you… do you swear to have loved me until your last breath?"
He took a final, shuddering breath, the red glow in his eyes fading for just a moment, replaced by a flash of that familiar green. "Yes, my princess. Every drop of blood my heart has pumped, every particle of air I have inhaled, every second I have spent alive on this earth… has been devoted to you and you alone."
Then, with a final, desperate cry, the sword fell. The air in the great ballroom was thick with a silence more terrifying than the screams that had preceded it. Splashed across the walls, a gruesome tapestry of blood and flesh served as a permanent record of the massacre. The scent of iron and death overpowered the lingering perfume of a thousand roses.
___
The somber, weeping sky released its grief upon the kingdom, a slow drizzle turning to a violent cascade. The newly crowned queen, Mafuyu, stood before the freshly dug earth of her mother’s grave. The polished marble offered no comfort against the raw ache in her chest. She cursed the private, petulant moments when she had dismissed her mother’s counsel as nagging, the times she had yearned for a life free of the throne's shadow. Now, she would give anything to feel the warmth of that hug again. Beside her mother’s tombstone, a simple, unadorned cross marked the grave of her knight. It was a silent, agonizing wound in her heart. The quiet solitude was broken by the crunch of boots on wet gravel.
Two knights and two young noblewomen, their faces a mixture of solemnity and sorrow, approached. One of the knights, a man with a stern face and an aura of practiced grace, was accompanied by a girl who looked to be his sister in all but name. "Your Highness," he began, his voice a perfectly modulated baritone, "I extend my deepest and most sincere condolences for this twin tragedy. This great evil shall not be suffered in vain; let it be the iron-wrought impetus for our absolute triumph over the shadow of the dark kingdom." His companion, a princess with a fan embroidered with jeweled stars, waved a delicate hand to silence him. "Forgive my knight's lack of tact, Your Majesty," she said, her tone cool and practiced. "We understand that matters of state are a poor substitute for a moment of quiet grief."
The pink-haired knight stepped forward, her face a mask of rare solemnity. "Yeah, Tsukasa, what are you saying? Have a little tact, will you? She's barely had a moment to breathe, let alone grieve for our friend!"
Tsukasa sighed, a small but pronounced gesture of annoyance. "And it is past time, Knight Mizuki, that you begin to speak with the elegance befitting a royal's servant. Your words are a direct reflection of our esteemed monarch."
Mizuki snorted softly, the sound a jarring note in the funereal quiet. "Ha! My queen is hardly some delicate flower, Tsukasa! The things I've seen her get up to–"
Before she could finish, Princess Ena, shamed by her knight's outburst, struck Mizuki's head with a sharp tap of her fan. "My sincere apologies, Your Majesty," she said, her voice dripping with humiliation. "My knight, though loyal, lacks the refinement of her station."
Mafuyu flinched at the address. The title felt like a brand, a crown of thorns she had yet to grow into. "Do not fret, Princess Ena," she said, her voice hollow. "Some normalcy is a welcome relief in these... trying times."
Saki, a girl with kind eyes and the reputation of a magical prodigy, looked down at Akito's grave, her brow furrowed. "He was a good friend to us all," she murmured. "A great loss. The Dark Empire... their crimes will not be forgotten."
Tsukasa's knuckles went white around his sword hilt. "If I could tear them asunder with my bare hands, I would. Those corrupted creatures... they are not worthy of the name human." His voice was a low growl of unbridled fury.
Mizuki bit her lip, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Not after... after what they did to him...Such a cruel way to die..."
"Do not mourn what we can still reclaim," Mafuyu said, her voice suddenly colder, firmer. "I shall avenge my knight, and that shall be his final rest."
"Mind-control magic," Saki muttered, almost to herself. "Such a profane art. It has not been seen in centuries. A dirty trick indeed." Mafuyu’s head snapped up. She fixed her empty gaze on Saki, her stare so intense it seemed to bore into the younger girl's very soul. "Ah… Your Majesty," Saki stammered, flustered by the attention. "Dark magic… it was banished from the realm centuries ago. It is strictly forbidden. But if… if they have discovered some ancient tome, some hidden library… that would explain how they were able to corrupt a will as strong as his." Mafuyu's grief was gone, replaced by a cold, searing purpose.
"Tenma Saki," she commanded, her voice ringing with the authority of her new crown. "I order you to begin an investigation at once. Read any book, enter any forsaken library. I do not care. Get to the bottom of this magic. For the sake of Akito and my kingdom!"
"Yes, my queen," Saki said, bowing so low her forehead almost touched the wet gravel. Cold sweat beaded on her brow, intimidated by the empty resolve in Mafuyu's eyes.
Tsukasa and Mizuki exchanged a confused glance, and Ena lowered her fan slightly. "I see you have found your resolve, Your Majesty," Ena said, a hint of respect entering her voice. "Very well. I shall lend you the mages of the Crystal Empire to aid your cause. We stand with you."
"Thank you, Princess Ena. I shall use your resources correctly."
"Hmph... very interesting indeed," Ena said, turning to leave. "Shall we return, Mizuki? The Light Kingdom’s air is quite straining to one's pristine lungs."
"Yes, Princess… See ya' later, Tsukasa-kun!" Mizuki said, giving her friend a small wave. Tsukasa returned a formal bow, mostly directed at his queen. Mafuyu stood alone once more, her veil and hair dripping with rain, a cold glow of determination in her eyes. The queen had died, and in her place, a weapon had been forged.