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If there was anything Schneizel was good at, it was vapid small talk at royal events. Long ago, there was certainly a part of him that found the empty chit-chat repulsive, but that feeling had, too, long vanished. Instead, it was replaced with an ever-so-hollow void in his heart that quietly welled within him as he performed the rehearsed rituals. After so many years of such a lifestyle, it felt almost as if his body moved on his own as he greeted the noblemen and whispered sweet nothings to the ladies.
The ballroom of the palace was as crowded as ever, the music and voices of the people overlapping in a monotone cacophony that made him feel strangely numb. They were nothing but a reminder of how shallow and performative it all was. Then again, who was he to judge? If this castle was a stage, he was the star actor of the night, shining ever so brightly for the hungry, insatiable audience of Britannia. If a performance is what is asked of him, he shall deliver. And so, he was leaning against one of the long mahogany tables in the hall, entertaining a noble couple whose names he didn't remember, but skillfully avoided revealing so. After all, nearly all of the people in this ballroom were the same to him, so the same act would work on all of them. Nearly all of them.
“As reliable as ever, Your Highness,” he heard the woman chuckle, “but these uprisings certainly have started to become more common, no? Pray tell, if you can, what the royal family is planning to do about them?”
His mouth automatically opened to respond, but his mind was absent, his eyes scanning the room for the one person he didn't need to perform for. “Yes, we–” Without thinking much of the vague, simple question, the answer began putting itself together, equally as meaningless and shallow as the prompt itself. “Trust me, we are doing everything in our power to keep the people of Britannia safe.” Although he was smiling at her, he certainly wasn't looking at her. His eyes were still darting across the room, searching for any sign of his aide.
Ah, there he was. All the way across the ballroom, Kanon was leaning against the wall, a glass of wine in his hand. Surrounded by people, most of which Schneizel didn't recognize, he was laughing and charmingly retelling some story Schneizel couldn't hear. Kanon has certainly always been good at ballroom talk, but for him to be this relaxed, Schneizel knew there had to be at least three or four drinks involved. Besides, performing must have been a little easier when the actor wasn't a hollow husk. Or, at least, not as hollow as him. Perhaps he could use a break from it all. Luckily, Kanon was standing near one of the exits.
The nobleman before him had already continued the conversation, but Schneizel was done listening. With a quick polite goodbye, he excused himself and made his way through the crowd, the people parting to make way for him. The whispers and looks full of admiration as he passed by would surely make someone else feel a rush of power, or embarrassment, or pride, but he simply paid them no mind.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I'm afraid I'll have to steal Earl Maldini from you for a little while,” he interjected into the conversation, subtly taking the glass from Kanon’s hand and leaving it on one of the tables before promptly nudging him towards the door.
The air in the palace garden was cold and sharp, but perhaps that was exactly what Schneizel needed to clear his head. Allowing himself to finally relax, his face returned to that of apathy, his footsteps softly resonating through the garden as he walked aimlessly. The fact that Kanon followed him like a loyal dog didn't weigh on his mind – it was only expected. It was natural. It was right. It was simply the way things are. Wherever he went, Kanon went. Never would he think of questioning how they might appear to others.
“Highness? Did you need me for anything?” the earl asked, struggling to catch up to him. Despite his best efforts to conceal it, his speech was slightly slurred.
“Hm? No, not at all. I just thought we could use a break, that's all. Would you rather have stayed at the ball?” The prince slightly raised his eyebrow, expecting he could predict the answer. Instead, he was met with a question in return.
“You've never liked these events, have you, sire?” Kanon chuckled, trying to focus on walking straight.
“I…” Schneizel found himself having to take a moment to think before answering. In fact, Kanon might have been one of the only people who could make him hesitate, even for a moment. “I don't dislike them, no. It's a mere duty of a prince. That's all.” He did take note of Kanon stumbling, but decided not to say anything. For now.
“You make excuses to not show up whenever you can. And when you do show up, you figure out a way to leave early. Or disappear for a while, like now.” The aide couldn't help but drunkenly smirk. In a way, it brought him satisfaction that he sometimes knew the prince better than he knew himself. “Are you sure you don't dislike it? Or did you just push away those feelings too? Like you always do. I mean, with all due respect, sire,” he added with a chuckle, knowing Schneizel wouldn't take offense either way. Not when the remark came from him.
The prince decided not to respond, instead only looking around for a place to sit down and relax in silence for a few brief moments. He eyed the gazebo between the rose bushes. Certainly not a spot designed to be used at night, but he felt strangely attracted to the idea of a tiny, isolated place, secluded from the guards and knights patrolling the garden.
Making it to the gazebo, he quietly helped his drunk aide sit down, before collapsing onto the bench beside him. The ballroom music was so quiet and distant, the smell of flowers so sweet, the dozens of tiny lights around the palace so calming, that he could pretend this was a whole another world for a little while. One where there was no role for him to play, no duty for him to fulfill. Just him, and the drunken Kanon now clinging onto his arm.
He didn't pay it any mind when his aide leaned onto him, his head resting on his shoulder. They've gotten so comfortable with each other over the many years that such an act was perfectly natural for them. It wasn't uncommon for Kanon to pull Schneizel in close to fix his tie, or for the prince to gently wipe his aide's face when his makeup would smear, or for one to fix the other's hair before a conference or photoshoot. It certainly wasn't anything he occupied his mind with. That was simply the way they were, and that was the way it would stay, as far as he was concerned. He definitely didn't mind the present moment. If only time could freeze, in this exact second, this exact frame, leaving the two of them just like this… But that was only wishful thinking. Tomorrow would arrive, whether he liked it or not, and if you asked him, he'd certainly say it will be worse than today. And, although he originally planned to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet, what Kanon said earlier was still stuck in his head, prodding at him.
“Kanon. Did you mean what you said earlier? That I lock my emotions away? Do you really think I do that?”
And his advisor laughed sincerely, his sweet voice echoing through the garden. “Oh, sire, I'm sure that if you could put your feelings in a bottle and analyze them under a microscope, you'd do so. Maybe you should ask Lloyd for help with that. I'm certain he could think something up~” After chuckling to himself for a little while longer, he sank into the prince's shoulder with a grunt. “I'm nauseous.”
Schneizel only sighed. “How much did you drink?”
“Don't ask questions you don't want an answer to, my lord.”
It was the prince's turn to laugh. “Do you really think you could out-drink me, Kanon?”
“I'm not sure. Maybe we should try it sometime…” There was still a playful expression on his face, despite his obvious sickness.
And just as he was about to answer, the prince remembered the party they had left behind, the duty he needed to return to, the play that was patiently waiting for its main actor to return, and his smile faded from his face, the brief tranquil moment now shattered. He looked back at his aide, slumped over him, unusually quiet. “Kanon, you should rest for tonight. I'll manage by myself. Come now, I’'ll take you to your room.”
Kanon swayed as Schneizel helped him up to his feet. “No, Your Highness, I'm fine, really, I can–”
“I insist.”
Knowing when there was no chance of changing the prince's mind, Kanon let him pull his arm over his shoulder and they slowly began making their way back to the palace.
After dismissing a few royal staff members offering them help, Schneizel brought Kanon to his room, haphazardly closing the door behind them as he held up the drunken man. Leading him to the bed in the middle of the room, he carefully laid him down, unbuttoning his suit jacket and slipping it off his shoulders. “Try to get some sleep. I'll tell the staff not to wake you tomorrow morning. I need to go back to the ball now.”
Slightly disoriented, but grateful nonetheless, Kanon let himself sink into the mattress as Schneizel pulled a blanket over him, clumsily attempting to tuck him in. “I… Thank you, sire. But, you really didn't have to waste your time bringing me here. I would've been fine by myself, really, you could have had one of the butlers or maids help me. God knows we have enough of those around,” he added slyly.
Despite him already being halfway out the door, Kanon's words made the prince halt. His advisor was right. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to insist on bringing Kanon here personally. This palace might have been the safest place in the world for him. The crowd was surely looking for him at the party. And yet, he insisted. Why?
He'd have to think about that later.
“...Don't worry about it, Kanon. Goodnight.” But his aide was already deeply asleep. Quietly, he slid out of the room and carefully closed the door behind himself, heading back for the ballroom.
The scent of Kanon's perfume lingered on his suit.
On most days, Schneizel was very good at clearing his mind when it was time to finally get to bed. A prince needs his beauty sleep, after all. This was, however, not one of those days. Even though he was completely drained, and he has certainly had one too many drinks, his thoughts were racing, making him toss and turn in his oversized bed over and over. It was unbelievable. Such a simple question made him trip up.
Why had he insisted on bringing Kanon to his room?
Schneizel was very well aware of the kind of person he was – and that is to say, he was hardly a person at all. Everything he did, he did because it was expected of him. Because it was necessary. Because it was part of the elaborate, never-ending play he was part of. The personality he had crafted for himself was that of a kind, charming, but firm prince. If there were people around, he would act accordingly. Simple as that.
But back then, in that moment, there was nobody to perform for and nothing to gain. Kanon already knew what he was – a poor imitation of a human being. And, for some reason Schneizel couldn't quite comprehend, he didn't mind it. If he had simply handed Kanon off to a butler, nobody would bat an eye. It wouldn't be rude or cruel. It wouldn't put a crack in his carefully crafted persona. If anything, what he did was detrimental to it. He wasted his precious time on a meaningless task instead of getting back to the audience he was supposed to be performing for. No matter which angle he looked at it from, it didn't make sense. The only explanation was that he didn't do it as an act at all. It was, clearly, one of the rare moments when he did something because his own heart beckoned him to.
That was unfortunate. Such actions were nigh impossible for him to understand. Not when said actions were coming from other people, no – those he could understand very well. He was apt at deciphering a person's true intentions and wishes, and using them accordingly. But there were no such desires or motivations to understand when it came to himself. Or maybe Kanon was right, and if there was some semblance of fervor or motivation within him, he had long locked it away. Strangely, now he wished more than ever that he could actually do what Kanon mentioned – put all his feelings and thoughts into a tiny glass bottle, pick it up carefully between his forefinger and thumb, hold it up to the light and analyze it.
Feelings, yes. If what he did wasn't logical, it had to be because of something he felt. What did he feel at that moment?
Well, it felt right for him to be the one to escort Kanon. But that was too vague to satisfy him. Why did it feel right? He couldn't be sure, but he knew that it was exactly how things were meant to be. For him to be the one to support Kanon by his waist, to gently lay him down onto the bed, to strip him of his jacket, keeping his hands on his aide for just a split second longer than necessary.
Would he mind someone else doing so? It wouldn't make any practical difference. Yet, he realized the slightest trace of a frown formed on his face at the thought.
How ridiculous of him. Kanon wasn't his property. If someone else was acting the way he was just now, he'd say it looked almost like… jealousy.
…
Is that what it was? Jealousy? Did he feel jealous at the thought of someone else touching his aide?
The mere thought made him shoot up straight in his bed, feeling around for the lamp on his nightstand, as if he had seen a ghost in the corner of his window.
It wasn't news to him that he had formed some semblance of an attachment to Kanon. At the very least, he was used to his constant presence. He was well aware of the fact that this wasn't a good idea. The people who work for him had a tendency to mysteriously disappear, or take a bullet to the head, or somehow end up with cyanide in their morning tea. Although he tried not to think of something of the sort happening to Kanon, there was always a risk. Then another thought surfaced before he could push it back.
Would he care if something happened to Kanon?
Yes, Kanon was irreplaceable as an assistant, as an advisor, but would he care on a personal level? Would he be upset? Angry? He found his own reaction difficult to imagine. Over the years, he learned that he had a tendency to not realize the gravity of losing someone close until it actually happened. He didn't think he cared about Lady Marianne until he saw her bloodied, dead body sprawled out on the stairs. Back then, he brushed his reaction off as natural shock to seeing such a violent scene, but, thinking back to it, he must have at least held some kind of respect for the woman.
He didn't think he cared about Lelouch until he disappeared in the attack on Area 11. The absence of his younger brother followed him like a ghost for months, quietly reminding him that the only person who dared challenge him was gone.
He didn't think he cared about Euphemia until she–
That situation still didn't make sense to him. Something about it didn't quite add up. He couldn't get a wink of sleep the night after that incident. But that wasn't the point right now. The point was, he would only realize his true feelings for someone when they were forced out of him by a strong enough shock. Now, certainly, he didn't want such a horrible fate to befall Kanon, but he did desire to be shaken up enough to clear his head, make his own feelings more tangible. Whatever he felt towards Kanon didn't seem like a usual example of love. His heart wouldn't skip a beat when Kanon walked into the room, he wouldn't attempt to make himself seem better in front of him, he didn't feel tense or nervous around him – in fact, it was quite the opposite. Kanon was the only person before whom he didn't have to pretend. The two of them had grown so close that, if he had to describe it, it would be close to a sense of comfort. An acceptance. A belonging.
…Was that it? For someone like him, maybe that is what love means.
But he needed to be sure. Making up his mind, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. Making a call at almost 3AM would be incredibly unmannerly for anybody else, but for the second prince, anything was possible.
The white and gold lavish interior of the prime minister's office contrasted sharply with the simple black clothing of the woman who stood in the centre of the room, fiddling with the holster hanging over her shoulder. “So, who's the target this time?” After years of doing dirty work for the prince, she's gotten quite used to the rhythm of it all. Schneizel would assign her the task, she'd take care of the unfortunate victim without asking questions, she'd get a hefty sum of money, and they wouldn't see each other until the royal family required her services once again.
“Actually, no one,” the prince bluntly answered, leaning in over his desk and handing her an envelope.
The woman raised her eyebrow. “You’re hiring an assassin to not assassinate someone?”
“Yes. Or, well, precisely, I’d like you to maim him, not kill him.”
She opened the envelope, quickly skimming through the information in it. “Hey, isn't this your little assistant? What happened? Is he a mole? A shame, I liked him.”
“I believe part of our deal has always been that you ask no questions,” he narrowed his eyes. “Tomorrow at 3pm, he'll be attending a meeting with me, here in the palace's conference hall. You should have a clear line of sight through the windows. I'd like you to aim for a non-fatal spot. Is that something you can do?”
She looked over the map of the palace grounds provided in the file. “I'd have to be very close if you want me to be that precise.”
“How close?”
“One of these outbuildings should be good,” she shrugged, pointing to a spot on the map.
“I'll withdraw the guards from the west entrance for an hour, then. You're free to walk in and do what you need to.”
Without another word, she put the file under her arm and headed for the exit. “Then, until tomorrow, sir.”
Left with his own thoughts, Schneizel realized he had an unexplainable headache. He's thought the entire plan through. He'd have Kanon wounded, but not killed. Any sane person would feel upset at the sight of someone they love being injured. He could only hope he was sane enough to fall into that category. However, unable to justify maiming his advisor for his own whims, he's already decided how he'd spin the incident for the public. The media would frame a Japanese terrorist for the attack, painting it as an unsuccessful assassination attempt on the prime minister's advisor. It would certainly serve well to paint a picture of the resistance being violent and ruthless even to a mere helpless assistant. The public, of course, didn't need to know that Kanon was perfectly capable of killing a man if necessary, or that he always carried a gun concealed under his uniform. Yes, it would be a smart move. For the greater good of the world, of course. Not for the sake of resolving his own internal turmoil.
In the many years of the two of them working together, Schneizel hasn't needed to hide something from Kanon even once. There could be no secrets between them. There was a reason why Kanon was the only person who could waltz into his study unannounced, or look through his personal belongings, or why he was the only person allowed to brew his tea. Simply, Schneizel trusted him. Trusted that Kanon wouldn't stab him in the back even if they had a disagreement. Now, however, he had no choice but to hide something from him. The concept itself was unnervingly unnatural to him, akin to learning to live with a missing limb. The feeling didn't go away even as he sat down at the long, polished and ridiculously oversized table in the conference hall. Kanon sat right beside him, as he always has, yet there was a sensation of an insurmountable abyss between them that he couldn't quite shake off. He kept looking at his watch. It was 2:52pm.
“Is something the matter, Your Highness?”
Kanon's voice snapped him out of thought. In the chaos of people getting ready for the meeting, nobody noticed the concern on his aide's face. And, accustomed to the role he's played for as long as he could remember, Schneizel smiled at him. “Hm? No, not at all.” But he wasn't used to the only person in the audience being Kanon.
“If you aren't feeling well, sire, I can handle the talking. You seem… out of it.”
Oh, Kanon.
“Actually, I would quite like that. Thank you.” Once again, he checked his watch. 2:54pm.
Maybe Kanon wasn't entirely wrong in his deduction, because Schneizel really did find himself feeling out of it. As if he wasn't quite himself. The voices around him blended into an indecipherable cacophony, the faces of people he usually recognized now merely muddy blurs. Never before has he paid attention to how large and open the windows in the hall were. An entire glass wall, completely unsuspecting and indescribably fragile. Just like Kanon. Poor Kanon, at whom he pointed a gun, despite his loyalty and service throughout all those years. For his own whims. For his broken ideals. For his own inability to be a normal human being.
Nobody but him noticed the black silhouette on the rooftop across from the palace.
Another look at his watch. 2:57pm.
He tried to focus on what Kanon was reading from the notes scattered on the table in front of him, but the words were melting into each other. The longer he looked at Kanon, the more he felt he could see a target on his head.
And it was his doing.
…
What the hell was he doing?
Has he lost his mind?
Hiring an assassin on the only person he ever really trusted. The only person who would follow him to hell and back. For no reason other than satisfying his own morbid curiosity.
What if Kanon moved? What if his assassin missed? A mere few inches separated a publicity stunt and his surefire death.
No. The reward simply wasn't worth the risk.
He placed his hand on Kanon's shoulder, interrupting him in the middle of a heated explanation. What got Kanon so worked up, however, he had no idea. Leaning in, he whispered into his ear. “I'll handle everything from here on, Kanon. Leave and go wait for me in my quarters.”
“What?” His aide’s eyes gave away his confusion. “But, Highness, why–”
“Kanon.”
Their eyes locked together in an invisible game, both of them attempting to read the other's thoughts. Schneizel could feel the watch on his wrist ticking. “Trust me.” Such a request felt disgusting slipping from his lips now. If he had been a different man, he might've even recognized it as guilt.
Finally, Kanon nodded, standing up and clumsily excusing himself, although he wasn't sure why he was excusing himself, before promptly retreating from the room. Schneizel allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief when the door closed behind his aide. Only a few moments later, he felt his phone vibrating in the inner pocket of his overcoat. Already knowing who it was, he muttered a quick apology before opening the messages. What unsightly behavior for a prince.
“?”
“You said he'd be here at 3pm”
“What was that?”
“I just got a good angle too”
For a few moments, he simply stared at the messages, unsure of what to answer. What was that? He couldn't quite explain it even to himself. Still, appearances needed to be kept.
“Plans have changed. You're free of duty. You will still be paid accordingly.”
Looking up from his phone, he realized what a scene he created. All eyes in the room, staring at him in confusion and, surely, frustration, although they'd never dare show it. With a well-practiced smile, he picked up the notes Kanon left behind. “My apologies, an urgent matter came up. Now, where were we?”
Schneizel found himself unable to turn the knob on the door to his study. The thought of looking Kanon in the eyes made him nauseous. He could lie. To whom? To Kanon? Or to himself? Yes, Kanon would be suspicious, he'd know something strange was happening that day. He's clever, after all. Schneizel wouldn't have kept him by his side all those years if he wasn't. But, eventually, he'd cave in. He'd forget all about the strange morning and unusual meeting and stay by his prince's side, like a well-trained dog. Yes, he could do that. It wouldn't be any different to the countless times he's lied to people, used them, manipulated them, discarded them when they weren't needed anymore.
But he didn't want to.
His own actions proved to him what he wanted to know most. Initially, he predicted two possible outcomes – either he'd see Kanon get shot and feel nothing at all, knowing it was all his own doing and he was in no real danger, or he'd feel a tinge of sadness, or worry, or protectiveness towards his poor aide. What he couldn't predict is that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to go through with the plan at all. It was a result far more damning than what he imagined, and far more conclusive.
He did love Kanon. In his own strange, twisted, even cruel way, but he most definitely did. Nobody else would make him act so irrationally, so unpredictably.
Whichever piece of his heart wasn't frozen yet beckoned him to tell Kanon the truth of what he did, and leave him to do with that truth as he wished. Although he has never doubted where Kanon's loyalties lie, he couldn't be completely sure he'd want to stay by the side of a man who pointed a sniper at him. But the pragmatic side of him knew he needed Kanon. Losing someone who knew so much about his plans, his strategies, and himself as a man would be devastating. That sort of information in the hands of his enemies could bring about his demise.
No. If there was anyone who earned the right to the truth from him, it was Kanon. That wouldn't change now, not after so many years. It was Schneizel, after all, who decided there could be no secrets between them.
He pushed open the door.
Kanon had certainly made himself quite comfortable on one of the spacious leather couches in the room. His jacket, gloves and hat were neatly folded and left on the armrest, and he himself was sprawled out on the couch, only in his button-up shirt and pants, absent-mindedly gazing into the fireplace at the head of the room. Schneizel couldn't help but recoil at the thought of shattering the tranquil scene. Quickly, the aide sat up to greet his prince once he noticed him enter the room. “Is the conference over already, Your Highness? It's hardly been an hour, I was sure it'd take the entire afternoon. Besides, what happened? Why send me away so… abruptly?” Kanon had wanted to say unceremoniously, but stopped himself at the last second. Schneizel was the only person for which he'd hold back his sharp tongue.
But instead of answering, the prince only stood before him, looking down into his eyes. The advisor shuddered, feeling, knowing something was deeply wrong. “Sire…? Have I done something wrong? I understand I may have been a little brazen with the ambassador, but–”
“Kanon.”
Unable to read anything at all on Schneizel’s face and in his voice, he only tensed up. “Yes…?”
“Would you ever leave me?”
Kanon's eyes widened, shocked at the question, but there was no hesitation in his answer. “Never, Your Highness.”
Satisfied with the answer, Schneizel continued pressing him. “Why?”
Taken aback, the aide frowned, once again trying to decipher the look in his prince's eyes to no avail. “Is this one of your trick questions, sire? Am I being tested?”
“No. Not a trick.” Never for you.
“...Because I believe in the world you wish to create.”
“And if I decided to give up on that plan? Or if I failed to create such a world? Would you leave then?”
“No.”
“Then, why do you really stay?” Schneizel felt he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it anyway. After all, their relationship had always been about Kanon offering his heart on a platter, and Schneizel willingly choosing not to shatter it. Never would the prince be the first one to leave himself vulnerable.
"What– Sire, where are these questions coming from?! Have I done something I shouldn't have? Are you... Doubting me?"
But the prince was unrelenting. "I believe I asked you something, Kanon."
For the first time in many years, he saw Kanon falter. He clenched his fists in his lap, gritting his teeth, looking at Schneizel like a deer in the headlights. He'd never dare lie to his prince, but saying the truth has never been more terrifying. His voice trembled. “Because I love you.”
The silence between them has never been so suffocating. Kanon couldn't handle his piercing gaze anymore. He bowed his head, staring down at the floor, as if looking for a nook or cranny to crawl into and disappear. That's all it took – for his prince to ask, and he'd hand him anything. His assistance, his thoughts, his bare heart, soul, and life. But no matter how much he thought, there was no universe in which he'd be able to predict what Schneizel would say next.
“I planned to have you shot, Kanon.”
He didn't need to look up at the prince to know he wasn't joking, but he did so anyway. The brief moment of disbelief he felt melted away when he met the man's gaze. Schneizel was completely serious. "Wh– what?!" A chill ran down his spine as the information he received settled in. His own prince wanted him dead. And he had no idea why. “But–?! H– Highness, why?! Do you think I would betray you? I– I'd never–!” His slender frame trembled, and his words betrayed him. Yet, the man before him was as unwavering as ever.
“I didn't plan to have you killed,” Schneizel continued, as if it was the most unremarkable of topics. “Merely maimed.” He didn't feel surprised at seeing how distraught his aide was. The expression on his face was an unusual mix of terror, confusion and relief. It was only expected. Not giving him any time to process what he was told, Schneizel asked him another question. Another cruel prod at his heart, another selfish request. “Do you still love me after what I’ve just told you, Kanon?”
Kanon tensed up, his entire body shaking, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes narrowing. Schneizel couldn't help but think about how beautiful he looked when that flame of fury inside of him would erupt, filling his eyes with an unshakable determination. "Is this another game to you?! Is there a correct answer you're expecting from me?!"
"No. The only correct answer is the truth. I need to know, Kanon. Do you still love me?"
Kanon could feel tears welling in his eyes, although he wasn't sure whether they were tears of anger, sadness or pure helplessness. But, looking at the man before him, he knew there was only one true answer, and there would always be only one true answer. If his trust in his prince faltered, he was nothing. Whatever was happening, there had to be an explanation. “Yes. I still love you. You... must have had good reason, sire.”
“I… don't believe I did. But I did sate my curiosity. I found out what I wanted.”
Kanon felt even another second of this play would break him, but he wanted to understand. Needed to understand. He had always understood his prince, and he wouldn't have it any other way, even now. “And what could that be, sire?”
“I had a sniper on the west entrance of the palace. I had planned for her to wound you. Non-fatally. To see how I'd react to you being injured. And I… couldn't bring myself to go through with it. I faltered at the last second. That is why I asked you to leave. I think I love you, Kanon. That is what I found out.”
A few moments of silence lingered between them, as his aide stared at him, dumbfounded. Then, from the bottom of his heart, he sincerely laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Sire, I don't think sane people usually hire assassins on those they love.”
A fair argument. And Schneizel knew so. But before he could open his mouth to try and respond, Kanon continued, sinking into the couch with a weary smile. “But perhaps you do.”
The prince chuckled, despite the pit in his stomach. “Are you calling me insane, Kanon?”
“Maybe I am. But I do believe we get along, Your Highness, which doesn't make me any better. Isn't that why you like me? Because we are both different? Or perhaps insane? Well, I believe peculiar is the word you used.”
"That's part of it, Kanon," the prince mused, the tone of his voice suddenly much lighter, "but I don't keep you by my side just because you're unusual."
"There are other reasons, sire?" his aide purred, teasing him. "And what could those be?" Despite his cocky demeanor, Schneizel could notice his hands were still shaky.
"I believe you understand me better than anybody else."
"So, why try to put a bullet in me instead of talking to me?"
Schneizel laughed. Of course Kanon would be the one to suggest something like that. "Ask you how I feel, Kanon? Don't you think that's a little pointless?"
"I believe I know how you feel better than you do sometimes, Your Highness."
"As pompous as ever, Kanon."
And, all of a sudden, everything felt normal again. It felt right. Just the two of them, playing mind games, analyzing and prodding at each other, as they always have. It did briefly cross Schneizel's mind to apologize, but such a mannerism was superfluous between them. For better or for worse, they were stuck with each other until the end of time, and there was no sweeter life sentence.
Slowly, trying to gauge whether his aide would entertain him, he reached out for Kanon’s hand. Seeing no reaction other than that irresistible smirk, he took it as a challenge, pulling him up to his feet and drawing him closer to himself, slowly lowering one arm around his waist. With the gap between them reduced to nothing, he wasn't quite sure whether it was Kanon's heart racing, or his own. Gently, the prince caressed his face, and he cravingly leaned into the touch, melting into his embrace. But even Kanon couldn't help but blush when Schneizel lifted up his chin, bringing their faces only inches away from each other. “May I…?” he barely whispered under his breath, as if afraid of shattering the fragile moment. And Kanon obligingly leaned closer, letting the unbearable tension between them linger for just a little while longer, feeling the prince's short breath on his skin, before the taller man finally pulled him close and locked their lips together, taking what was his. Yes, his and his only. Maybe he was unaware of the fact that he was a jealous man until now, and maybe this was just another fleeting moment behind the curtains of the grand play they were both part of, but it was a moment where there were no masks or walls between them. A mere moment when they were simply two intertwined souls, and not pawns in someone else's script. A moment that was theirs and theirs alone.