Chapter Text
Fairy tales often begin with a backstory—a simple display of information that helps the reader understand the setting, the time, the characters, and, of course, the hero.
Any good story has some form of a hero, doesn’t it? An understanding from the very first few words of what kind of adventure you will see play out. The saving of a princess, the thwarting of an evil mage, or the escapades of a daring rogue?
No.
There is no start to this story, there is no beginning, and there may be no end. What follows is a boy, his raven hair mused like a makeshift crown around his head, breathing even as he slumbers while his eyebrows remain knit and his body tense despite the plush bed he lies upon.
Our story begins as he bolts upright, panting and panicked.
Ren lets out a wheeze.
His body aches and burns, the sleep still clinging to his eyes, and his limbs refusing to let him stumble from its loving embrace. On most days, Ren is content to lie in sleep’s comforting arms for a few hours more, much to the delight of Morgana, who has taken to using him as a pillow.
But that is the problem. This is not his bed. And no cat is lying upon his stomach.
His troupe is presumably nearby. They should be. Right? They had a job, and Ren had set off to…to…
He had set off for a job, a solo one, but the more he tries to think, the more his mind dissolves into a faint hiss.
A noise jolts him from his panic, and although it doesn't help, he has yet to even take in his surroundings, and now he has another type of stimulus to deal with.
His ears ring for a moment before the fog clears and Ren can turn his attention fully to the source. A light creaking of all noises.
“I’m pleased to see you are awake,” A voice chimes as a figure steps away from the yawning wooden door. It groans and shuts behind the figure, the weight of it making a loud and dull thud.
“I was worried you would sleep through the whole season.”
Once the stars and bleariness have passed Ren by, he gets to properly appraise his host and the room he has been sleeping in for who knows how long.
It is large and cavernous; the whole bedroom spans and stretches above him with long spires of wood and intricately carved molding across the walls. It is a place that has rich sewn into every detail.
Of course, the bed itself sinks beneath Ren’s weight and has the unique feel of crushed velvet. He wonders belatedly if this is some sort of castle, which makes the most sense given this type of architecture; the window adjacent to the bed offers him no help. It remains shut and covered with a makeshift curtain. A rather poor decorative choice given the rest of the room.
He finally gets the chance to draw his gaze to his host, the man is now sitting beside him, taking an elegant chair at the bedside. He hopes the man is not upset at Ren’s lack of response.
The man has honeyed hair that is tied up on the back of his head, a thin braid running along the side of his scalp, and behind his ear. The host’s eyes gleam a bloody crimson in the candlelight, though they must appear a warm brown in any other lighting.
What strikes Ren most is the air surrounding him. His host wears a suit of white, the gold embroidery and red detailing make him look like something from the cover of a book. Someone meant to be put on canvas as a dashing hero. His smooth features and sharp jaw combined with his graceful figure and striking eyes make Ren want to avert his own. Afraid to look directly upon someone like that lest they turn him to stone.
His host seems unaware of his plight. “You seemed as though you would never wake. I will admit you did surprise me with your rousing.” He smiles at Ren, the curve of it gentle and sweet like honey. “I made sure to bring some tea.” The tray beside him is an elegant silver, polished to the degree that it could be used as a mirror. Ren isn't sure he wants to see his reflection right now. He can feel his out of place curls stick to his forehead.
The princely man pours him a cup. Usually, Ren is more cautious of strangers handing off random drinks to him (poison him once, shame on you, poison him twice, and it’s his own fault). Yet the sight of the steaming mug reminds him of the tight constriction of his throat and how desperately he craves the sweet satisfaction of quenched thirst.
He brings the mug to his lips in a move that could be more graceful. How long had he been sleeping?
His host gently chuckles. “A blend of bergamot and orange, I hope you find it to your taste.” He phrases it like a statement rather than a question.
Ren wipes his lips and sets the drained mug back on the tray. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” Ren pauses to look around. “Where am I?”
His host does not seem surprised by this question; his soft features curl up into a pleased smile, a light pink flushing across his milky skin. “You are in my castle,” he says as though it is the only explanation that would be required.
“Which is?”
“The outskirts of the country, nestled between rolling hills and the desolate northern forest. I wish I could provide you with a map, but there are no geographical supplies left here. All these halls, and yet all I have is the view outside my window. It really is too tragic.”
Ren, still hazy with sleep, wonders if his host likes the sound of his own voice.
It takes a beat for Ren to feel bad for thinking such a thing. There's a hint of sadness in the man’s voice, then once those previous thoughts have left, Ren wonders why a castle would not have a single map?
“Do not worry.” His host waves a dismissive hand around. “I have no uncouth plan. You arrived on my doorstep half frozen from the storm. I tried my best to keep you healthy, but your fever only broke yesterday.”
Ren does still feel rather flush. His body contains the lingering aches of an illness. What is strange to Ren is how cold he is, even underneath a thick quilt; his skin is frigid to the thought. He tugs his shawl closer, realizing belatedly that the clothes he wears are not his own.
A thin and neatly embroidered linen shirt and silky white pants to match. Flowers and birds are delicately sewn onto the hem.
“Your previous clothes were soaked, I sent them away to be cleaned,” His host offers with his uncanny ability to read Ren’s mind.
“Oh. Thank you,” Ren offers awkwardly, feeling out of place in this gothic fairy tale that this prince seems swathed in.
“Where are my manners!” The man exclaims a pristine gloved hand resting scandalized on his chest as if in shock at his very behavior. “Akechi Goro, I am pleased to have you as my guest.” He smiles a practiced sweet thing that falls into place on his face perfectly.
“Amamiya Ren. I hope I am not imposing.” Ren rolls the prince’s name around in his head, finding it tastes like caramel on his tongue.
Akechi simply smiles at that, saying nothing. Ren has to admit that he is beautiful.
The kind of beauty that would start wars and blood feuds to last centuries, and given the unnerving smile Aekchi wears, Ren wouldn't doubt one of those has already happened.
Akechi seems to wear the kind of ethereal beauty that makes it hard to look him directly in the eye; his whole setup seems so deliberate to highlight his sharp features and princely aura.
Ren clears his throat, his gaze returning to where his hands are resting on his lap.
“I hope you find my castle comfortable. I am the only noble left here, so I will do my best to impress upon you my credibility.” He bows his head in Ren’s direction, his eyes never leaving Ren for the entire motion. He reminds Ren of those portraits that follow you with their eyes.
“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be staying for long. My troupe is likely worried sick.” Ren often refers to his band of thieves as his troupe. They travel as a band of performers which is a clever ruse for them, and the occasional performance helps when they are low on coin.
However, his host does not react to this information at all, doesn't even blink as he stares straight at Ren, a beat too long of silence passes before Akechi responds,
“I will admit you bring a rather noble presence with you. Are you sure you were not a knight in a past life?” His eyes gleam with interest in the candlelight. Ren may have been flattered if the statement wasn't entirely out of left field.
“I—” The words die behind the cage of his teeth, letting Akechi fill in the blanks for him.
“I will let you get your bearings now.” The prince stands a coat of fine red silk pools behind him gracefully. “Dinner will be ready before long, I hope you will accompany me.”. Ren gathers he has not much of a choice…though he is rather ravenous.
God, how long was he out for?
Once Akechi leaves the room falls into eerie silence, filled only by the dying crackles of the fire. Ren wishes he could make sense of his situation, but his fever must still ail his mind; his memories refuse to connect. His body sinks further into the plush bed, losing all its strength in a matter of seconds.
He will just rest his eyes.
The remaining embers of the fire lead Ren—the roguish hero, into his deep slumber. The castle is still around his sleeping form, so unaware of the creeping shadows or prying eyes.
Such must be the life of a hero, unburdened by what he cannot see and what he cannot know. For now, he rests, fortifying his body and mind to vanquish the evil that lingers around such a cursed dwelling.
When Ren wakes for the second time he is far less groggy. An air of energy settles over him quite different from the misty haze that lingered over him before.
He rubs his eyes and swings his legs over the side of the bed, hesitating for a moment stricken with a childish fear of a demonic hand reaching out from underneath to grasp his ankle.
Ren jumps further off the bed, away from any monsters that want to drag him under. He has scoured castles and fought off palace guards with only a dagger and yet here he is afraid of an imaginary monster under the bed. Ren hopes he is not grown soft after his stay with the prince, even if most of that was unconscious.
The room stretches around him.
A hint of red catches in the corner of Ren’s eyes. Placed on the bedside table is a single card, gold ink reads out: The table has been set. Please meet me for dinner when you rise. Ren turns the card in his hands before he pockets it, thankful that his night clothes have those.
He rummages around for something else to wear but finds very little in the guest room, the wardrobe is mostly empty outside of another set of moth eaten night garments, these are rough cotton and lack the careful embroidery of his own. After more digging Ren turns up a silk robe tucked away in a chest—the top of the heavy thing is covered in a thick layer of dust and it bears only a few trinkets and the robe.
“Looks like this is the best I’m going to get” Ren mutters letting the cool silk pool over his form, when it's tied like this it almost looks like a long nightgown. The garment is a deep carmine, so red Ren worries it will stain his fingertips. The hem is frayed in a single place, the exact size of someone’s finger. It almost seems like someone had worn the fabric through while rubbing it between their forefinger and thumb.
Ren dismisses his concern in favor of dinner. He finds at the mention of food he is starving. Though he steps out of the room looking like a wife who is on her way to collect her husband's fortune after a brief murder. I mean Ren almost finds the gown rather fitting…maybe red is a good color for him.
He picks a hallway to walk down at random, finding it parts easily giving way to a long dining hall.
The table laid out in the grand hall is a sight to behold, it is piled with decadent food, braised meat that glimmers in the candlelight, soft bread that still steams, and greens so lush and colorful they seem straight from an oil painting. Far too much for a single person to set up. Ren’s mind adds.
“This is rather elabor–” Ren stops midsentence, he looks up to see Akechi, risen from his chair eyes wide in horror, the whites visible all the way around his irises. His hands are balled into fists on the table cloth and his face turns something icy and sharp. The sight is so jarring it makes the hair on Ren’s neck stand on end.
Ren opens his mouth to ask but in that instant Akechi changes. His features smooth out and he seats himself again as though it was a ghost who made that face. His cheeks gain their color back gentle blush like rose petals gathered on his cheeks.
“I see you have decided to join me?” Ren nods the unsettling feeling still clinging to him.
“This is quite the spread,” Ren offers, trying to alleviate some of the tension. He takes a seat across from Akechi while the Prince’s eyes never leave him.
“A fitting dinner no? It would be embarrassing to have anything less.” Akechi laughs though Ren fails to see the joke. There are several vases of roses set about the table, they all look freshly cut, Ren can even see spots of dew clinging to their leaves.
Surely the prince must have some servants lying around right?
“You are my guest. I insist you try some of the food. No need to be shy, I was so worried about your condition.” Akechi waxes on motioning to the mountains of food before Ren, it really is overwhelming.
So to avoid adding any more unnecessary tension with his host Ren piles a plate with food. Soft pillowing bread rolls, fish so crispy the skin falls right off, berries and fruit that glimmer like gems. What starts as a few hesitant bites–Ren had not the hunger to gorge–soon turns to ravenous devouring, the food tastes like divinity. Or as close to that as one could get with food.
He hardly makes a dent in the spread, it seems as though he hadn't touched it at all, there's no sign Ren had been actively devouring. Perhaps that was just what one assumed with this much food. He wonders how easy it would be to smuggle more back to his troupe, goodness knows they need it. Yusuke would be in heaven.
Ren fills his plate again, drawn into the experience. This time however when he takes a bite of the same pastry he did before it tastes…stale. He tries again, the same fish, and it tastes slimy and grotesque. The food before him no longer seems like a delicacy but sickening.
Ren returns his fork to the table looking up to see Akechi watching him, smiling ever so faintly–Ren wonders if he had been watching the whole time, in fact, the Prince’s plate is entirely empty, not a thing around him has been touched.
“It has been such a while since I have had such nice company,” Akechi comments while his index finger traces the crystal rim of his glass. “It almost makes me want to offer you a position here. That is…” He trails off his expression, distant and strange. It reminds Ren of the mist that would gather around his window on a sleepy morning, so easily dispelled, as if it was never really there to begin with.
“That is?” Ren probes the food around him having been forgotten.
“You see, I said I was the last noble to dwell here and that is true. It is true because I was inflicted with a terrible curse in my youth,” He speaks dramatically as he spins his tale. Ren almost wants to take notes, he wishes he could capture the kind of building anticipation his host is. Even still, his heart bleeds for the prince.
“A jealous king sought to remove me from my position by cursing me and my castle. As long as I live I cannot leave these walls. It was hard to keep any kind of servants or subjects. I faded from the kingdom’s eye for years. You were quite the miracle, it has been so long since I have had a visitor, I was starting to worry.” The prince’s eyes grow misty as he places a hand across the table. “Worry that there truly was no one else in the world but me.”
Akechi takes a sip from his glass before continuing.
“It is not everyday someone in my position meets a traveler of such virtue.” He looks into Ren’s eyes, the red of Akechi’s dancing in the candlelight. The image seems to devour him whole, he can’t possibly look away from such a sight. The breath is pulled from his lungs by the sheer enchantress before him.
“I hope one day I can feel the sun on my skin again,” The prince laughs dryly as he pulls his hand away. Ren in a move as foolishly sentimental as his heart, reaches to rest his own atop Akechi’s gloved hand.
“I am not a paladin, or anything so noble.” He resists the urge to say please do not make a saint of me. “But you saved my life and I want to repay the favor.” How does one break an imposing curse over a whole castle? Ren isn't sure but he’s managed to save every member of his troupe from the jaws of their own perils. What is one strikingly beautiful prince? Ren can’t just leave him.
Akechi’s eyes widen in surprise, a blush the color of a pink mondial dusts his cheeks. He smiles bittersweetly. “You have my eternal gratitude. Perhaps I should make you my own personal knight, …or would you prefer to be my domestic?”
Ren feels his own face flush at the image of that, both as a dashing knight to sweep the prince off his feet and the maid there to assist wherever he can. Perhaps Ren was too much of a bleeding heart.
Akechi stands after a beat, he winds around the table to hold onto Ren’s hand, directing him from his chair and away from the dining room.
“I should show you the parlor. I am sure you would like to warm yourself by the fire. If you would allow me, I would be pleased to tell you some of my stories…”
The newly appointed hero walks off hand in hand with the price. He callously leaves the table behind, the food sitting hardly touched at all. If you dared to look close enough you would realize there was nary a bite taken. Of course our hero keeps his eyes on the prince and the prince alone. He does not see the way the house bends to accommodate him, the silence of the halls, or the robe that slides from his shoulder. He has not a clue the significance of what he does.
That is what makes him dangerously foolish.
And you, the faithful audience. You watch as he walks around his cares shifting from his own wellbeing onto the prince. The night he spent in the parlor listening to his stories and tales of valor until his eyelids grew heavy. There was a bed in the study perfectly sized for two. Our hero does not question it.
They spend the night there you know? Curled up together next to the dying light of the fire, covers wrapped tightly around our hero. Does the prince sleep? Did the curse rob that from him too? I suppose our hero will never know, all he knows is when he wakes the prince is tucked into the crook of his neck and rousing.
How gallant he is already.
When Ren peels his eyes open he is stricken with an awful lethargy, his limbs hand loose and heavy, as though the study intends to pull him down beneath its floorboards.
He is also overwhelmingly warm. For a brief flicking moment it is as though Ren is situated in his own cot, a large cat draped across his lap. That is until the shifting of something human shakes that thought free from his mind. Akechi grumbles for a moment stretching his arms upwards while he starts to lightly chuckle.
“Oh dear, I guess we did sleep together here. I hope you don’t mind the scandal,” A honey-sweet voice purrs near Ren’s ear. Before he is given the chance to respond Akechi has already stood from his position, hair seemingly perfect even after it's been slept on. “You may want to freshen up.”
Rude
With that Akechi leaves with a flourish leaving Ren hazy and mystified.
...
Time doesn’t seem to pass like it should. No bells toll as Ren washes up in an adjacent bathroom, the water from the tap running slow and languid.
His mind is fixed at this prince, hardly able to pull itself away from that man. He pats his face and dresses before wandering to find Akechi again. He feels lost without him in sight. Somehow. This doesn’t register as a problem for Ren.
It doesn’t take long for the house to lead him to a rather surprising sight. A greenhouse.
Akechi inspects a gaggle of rose bushes that seem to crowd around him, they are perfect little buds.
Light pools from a sunroom Ren finds Akechi in a white cape, floral accents brush the edges of his clothing. The prince lets his gaze flutter to Ren breaking into a small smile as he does.
“I hope you find the garden pleasant, unfortunately it hasn't been properly tended to, in quite a long time.”
Ren notices the brambles have grown so thick that the sky can hardly be visible; only patches of sunlight seep through amongst the panes of glass.
“This is the only room I can truly still see the sun, the folige is so thick here I worry it is only a matter of time before it is gone completely.” Akechi looks up and for a moment a darkness passes over his features his eyes dull in some strange contemplation before brightening again.
“Pardon my rambling, I think it would be nice for both of us to get some semblance of fresh air, if you would prefer to take some roses with you for your departure I would be amenable to that.” Akechi does not wait for Ren’s response as he breaks to wander the garden, his heel clicking as he does so.
Ren feels like he is helplessly trailing after the prince past hedges and branches, some plants have died off and withered soon covered with the roses and their ever present brambles, nothing is untouched by them, it feels labyrinthine to continue to wander amongst such a strange place. Ren huffs a bit as his pant leg gets caught on a stray thorn
He tugs several times cringing as the fabric starts to rip. He has already lost sight of Akechi within the maze of overgrown flowers. He fumbles with the thorn a bit trying to free his pant leg. Unfortunately the thorn is winning.
Ren snaps his pant free but all too quickly the thorn breaks the skin of his finger, a bead of red trickles from the pad. As Ren looks down at the thorn, now glistening with blood, something catches his eye. Beneath the vines and sharpness something glimmers. When Ren looks closer he finds it. A Ring.
“Ren! Where did you run off to?”
He pockets the ring quickly jumping up to find Akechi uncaring of the red that drips from his finger and something undiscovered deep beneath the brambles.
Dear audience, do you know what roses symbolize? Its a common symbol really, childish in its simplicity.
And a ring no less, its almost laughable. Yet the gallant hero looks past all these declarations and move forward with an anxiety welling in his heart. ‘
His priority should be his prince, and yet that mind has wandered elsewhere. Perhaps we should return to our hero, now settled by a roaring fire with his prince, they do little more than drink reserves and chat idly.
But isn't that always something more?
The fireplace is glowing a wonderful hue that fills the lounge. Its crackling sparks fill the gaps of conversion between Akechi and Ren, the prince huddles close to his side which is a bit of a funny sight when the prince stands just a bit taller than Ren, he'd have to lean uncomfortably to rest his head there.
Ren finds the prince despite his closeness has been a bit aversion to touch. He stiffens when Ren lays a hand on his arm or brushes his knuckles. There's something in the air that draws Ren to his beauty, there's a sharpness hidden beneath his words that keep Ren always wanting, always waiting.
He's lost track of how long he's been here, its evening but it shouldn't be if time wanted to obey any laws of logic. Maybe it has been days. Perhaps this too is just another facet of the curse.
The prince, as thought sensing these thoughts, says, “Are you enjoying the view? I hope I don’t make poor company.” He lowers his lids looking at Ren through delicate lashes. There's a growl in his voice, something deeper than you'd expected from such a refined prince.
“I think it should be the other way around. I'm hardly good company for someone of noble blood,” Ren chuckles feeling a heat rise to his cheeks which he knows is not the fire’s work.
“Mhm, I can say for certain you are the most interesting company I have had in ages, you are a wonderful study.” Goro leans in, brushing past Ren’s ear in a motion that feels closer than it should.
“Arent I the only company you have had in ages?”
“Perhaps.” He grins.
“But?” Ren prompts.
“But?” Akechi parrots with a light amusement, earning a deadpan look for Ren that only seems to egg him on.
There's a beat as Akechi covers his mouth and smiles.
“I may have been lonely.”
Before Ren can respond, Akechi leans forward his breath ghosting the shell of Ren’s ear. “Forgive me,”
He presses a kiss to the corner of Ren’s mouth. It's quick and sharp as a blade. Ren almost doesn't register it, when he does his face warms significantly.
“You…” He is shushed by Akechi.
“I have been very alone, if you will grant me an evening of your time…” He trails off eyes downcast and roaming Ren as though rummaging for clues of something.
“I don't want you to feel any obligation to grant me affections.” Ren swallows thickly, his hand rests hesitantly on the back of Akechi’s head, the thin braid tied with a ribbon just beneath his fingertips. He pulls at the end of it watching the strands fan down across his face.
“Please douse the fire.” Akechi whispers low.
Ren obeys without a second thought his mind clouded with a haze that he refuses to name, his nervousness shows in small ways, the glance he throws back at Akechi betrays that.
The fire goes out and plunges the room into darkness, only using touch to guise them. Akechi makes another move to kiss Ren and he replies with equal energy.
The darkness only serves to push them forward; only the outline of Them can be seen, nary a candle in sight.
“Akechi,” Ren breathes, finding him in the dark, his skin soft.
“Please call me Goro.”
“Goro."
The evenings crest and falls like a beautiful crescendo. The night passes by easily, slowly, wonderfully. Only the parlor knows their secrets
And what secrets they are. Tell me what do you get when you pit two lonely souls against each other, like flint and steel they will start to spark. Isn't it beautiful the fleeting heart of a human being? Our hero is fulfilling his role wonderfully, maybe he may win the hand of his prince and in the end achieve riches beyond his wildest imaginations.
Or maybe he will wake the next morning in an empty bed with a ring settled around his index finger as the only reminder of the night.
Pathetic thing he is.
Naive thing he is.
The pillow is so soft beneath Ren’s head, it feels so heavy and the plush bedding is cradling him nicely, he hardly wants to peel open his eyes, sleep the cruel mistress it is refuses to take him back in her arms. So he is forced into the world of the waking.
He blinks a few times bleary and slowly recalling the prior night, heat rises to his face but he stamps it out quickly, realizing the place beside him in bed is empty, even the covers have been pulled up on that side and tucked in.
Must be a clean stickler. Let him never see how Ren lives in his caravan.
Ren covers his eyes, catching a glint of a ring that was previously not on his finger. It's the one he fished from the rose garden, it now lies gently on his index finger the pattern of vines curve around the metal. He doesn't remember that being done last night. He has only bits and pieces of the hazy evening though; the total darkness didn't help that either.
Ren flexes his fingers, remembering the feel of the Prince. It was… abnormal. The touch didn't match what he knows: bones that jut out strangely, a concave feeling where his chest should be, beneath his Wingtip collar it felt gnarled and sharp. Maybe it was his senses betraying him in the dark but—
The ring around his finger shines in the light of morning.
Whatever it is. It can be discovered in due time. He sees this prince in all his strange nature is lonely—desperate. Ren can relate to that feeling; he can play a knight for a bit, enough to see Akechi, no Goro, free from the shackles of this strange curse.