Clockspring
A Phantasy Star™ Fanfiction
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From the very moment that their eyes had first met, Prince Rhys de Landen had known that it was love. Not the love of a mystery that had initially attracted him to the stunning blue-eyed, blue-haired enigma named Maia, who had washed ashore on the beaches of his kingdom, amnesiac, a scant three months ago, nor the casual flirting that sometimes had colored the early days of his quest with faithful Cyborg Mieu.
No, this was true love; that which defies explanation, rationality, and often, even common sense.
Rhys hung his head low, his sapphire eyes fixed on the floor. How was he going to explain it to his father, to Maia's father (and also, to her cousin, Lyle), that he had started out on a quest to rescue his fiancee from the clutches of the Layans and their dragon-spawn, only to fall in love, true love, with another?
That his infatuation with Maia had been just that: an infatuation?
Rhys' voice stuttered, faltered. "I cannot marry Maia."
A collective gasp went up from those assembled within the great hall of the castle, and Maia ran from Rhys' side to her cousin Lyle in tears. Surely he would choose the Orakian Princess Lena de Satera, then?
Rhys' voice, unsteady, rose again. "But neither can I marry Lena..."
The stunned silence that followed quickly turned to mumbles and whispers of dissent. Lena clenched her fists, but held her ground, trembling in barely contained fury. Her amber eyes grew cold, and the set of her jaw bespoke a grim determination.
King Landen looked slightly beyond the Prince and spoke then, his voice soft, but even. "I will forgive you if you marry Mieu, then, if that is truly your wish..."
Mieu, having taken a spot to stand next to Lena, wore an expression on her face that Rhys, turning his head to regard her, could not define. Her wide eyes, beneath a long, firey mane, were as blue as ever, yet she neither smiled nor frowned. She looked somehow... sad. Rhys couldn't meet her gaze for long; knowing what she did, seeing what she had seen one moonlit night amongst the forests of Landen... he could hardly blame her for being apathetic.
Rhys looked away from Mieu and shook his head, his azure mane obscuring his face. "I... love another."
Lyle, Maia weeping into his chest, glared accusatorily at Rhys, emerald eyes flashing with contempt; Rhys turned away, but not before he gave a long, sad glance behind him, and upward, toward the rafters where the shadows grew long.
One of the shadows slowly grew longer as the peoples' eyes traced Rhys', resolving itself into a small, sleek, dark shape that slowly lowered itself to the floor and advanced toward the circle of light.
Shiren advanced toward his master, the soft light shimmering off of his polished breast- and shoulder-plates.
Walking lightly over to Rhys on cloven feet, he gazed up into his face, a neutral expression gracing his pale, boyish visage.
King Cille boomed out above the sudden silence, "Do you, Cyborg, know of the damsel who has captured Rhys' heart?"
Shiren turned for a second, his eyes downcast, as if to answer, only to find the hand of the Prince gently turning his head back towards him. Closing his grey eyes and tilting his face, reaching up around Rhys' shoulders, feeling Rhys' hand slide over his headgear and into his obsidian hair, the ancient cyborg's lips locked with the young Orakian prince's.
Oblivious were they to Maia's choking sobs, Lena's hoarse screams, Lyle's firey epithets, and Mieu's stony silence. And above the vocal chaos that broke over the crowd like a tidal wave, one voice, and one order.
With a startled gasp, Shiren broke the kiss, and stared at Rhys, wide-eyed. Startled, Rhys placed his hands on Shiren's shoulders and thrust him to arm's length.
Traveling down from rapidly clouding eyes, the reason for it was all too clear; the sword sticking out from Shiren's ribcage, its tip stained with blood and smeared with oil, spoke for him as he slumped to the ground, lifeless.
With a twist and a yank, the Layan footsoldier standing behind him wrenched his blade from Shiren's corpse, his features twisted into a sadistic grin. He looked up at the Orakian prince, and growled, "If it were up to me, you'd be getting yours right about now, too. It's no less than what you deserve." He finished cleaning his sword, stood up, and then spat at Rhys to accentuate his point. "Filthy Orakians."
The chamber was now in full chaos; King Cille attempting to hold a spitting, snarling Lyle back from charging forward and killing Rhys himself; King Landen resting his head in his hand, wondering what he could have possibly done wrong, to have his eldest son turn out like this; Mieu attempting to tend to a shellshocked Lena as a team of Layan healers saw to the now-fanted Maia, scowling over at the Orakian princess and her cyborg companion; Rhys cradling Shiren's shell in his arms, weeping disconsolately.
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"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, 'It might have been'."
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Author's Notes:
It's been a long time since I've attempted anything in the PS phan community (and there's plenty of blame to go around for that, folks!). So why here? Why now? Perhaps to reclaim a shred of my former pride in myself, to give myself the validation I never got from certain other people coughneilastcough.
Why this story? AFAIK, it was the first-known PS shonen-ai, written only because certain other people thought that such things were "evil" and "unnatural". It was once meant to be the ending of a much larger piece of work, but after all this time, I've been told that it stands rather well on its own. So a few minor tweaks, and lo!
And yes, I know that Shiren and Mieu are Androids and not Cyborgs; I know what the difference between them is. But the people of the Alisa III do not, and so Cyborgs they remain, as per the US translation of PSIII, however inaccurate. Besides, at the time that this was originally written, I didn't know any better...
Comments? Criticism? Ah, what the hell. Flame on, you trolls!
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Story ©OnnaWren DiVahala, 2000, 2004. Reproduction without express consent strictly prohibited. Phantasy Star™ and all related trademarks property of Sega.
A Phantasy Star™ Fanfiction
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From the very moment that their eyes had first met, Prince Rhys de Landen had known that it was love. Not the love of a mystery that had initially attracted him to the stunning blue-eyed, blue-haired enigma named Maia, who had washed ashore on the beaches of his kingdom, amnesiac, a scant three months ago, nor the casual flirting that sometimes had colored the early days of his quest with faithful Cyborg Mieu.
No, this was true love; that which defies explanation, rationality, and often, even common sense.
Rhys hung his head low, his sapphire eyes fixed on the floor. How was he going to explain it to his father, to Maia's father (and also, to her cousin, Lyle), that he had started out on a quest to rescue his fiancee from the clutches of the Layans and their dragon-spawn, only to fall in love, true love, with another?
That his infatuation with Maia had been just that: an infatuation?
Rhys' voice stuttered, faltered. "I cannot marry Maia."
A collective gasp went up from those assembled within the great hall of the castle, and Maia ran from Rhys' side to her cousin Lyle in tears. Surely he would choose the Orakian Princess Lena de Satera, then?
Rhys' voice, unsteady, rose again. "But neither can I marry Lena..."
The stunned silence that followed quickly turned to mumbles and whispers of dissent. Lena clenched her fists, but held her ground, trembling in barely contained fury. Her amber eyes grew cold, and the set of her jaw bespoke a grim determination.
King Landen looked slightly beyond the Prince and spoke then, his voice soft, but even. "I will forgive you if you marry Mieu, then, if that is truly your wish..."
Mieu, having taken a spot to stand next to Lena, wore an expression on her face that Rhys, turning his head to regard her, could not define. Her wide eyes, beneath a long, firey mane, were as blue as ever, yet she neither smiled nor frowned. She looked somehow... sad. Rhys couldn't meet her gaze for long; knowing what she did, seeing what she had seen one moonlit night amongst the forests of Landen... he could hardly blame her for being apathetic.
Rhys looked away from Mieu and shook his head, his azure mane obscuring his face. "I... love another."
Lyle, Maia weeping into his chest, glared accusatorily at Rhys, emerald eyes flashing with contempt; Rhys turned away, but not before he gave a long, sad glance behind him, and upward, toward the rafters where the shadows grew long.
One of the shadows slowly grew longer as the peoples' eyes traced Rhys', resolving itself into a small, sleek, dark shape that slowly lowered itself to the floor and advanced toward the circle of light.
Shiren advanced toward his master, the soft light shimmering off of his polished breast- and shoulder-plates.
Walking lightly over to Rhys on cloven feet, he gazed up into his face, a neutral expression gracing his pale, boyish visage.
King Cille boomed out above the sudden silence, "Do you, Cyborg, know of the damsel who has captured Rhys' heart?"
Shiren turned for a second, his eyes downcast, as if to answer, only to find the hand of the Prince gently turning his head back towards him. Closing his grey eyes and tilting his face, reaching up around Rhys' shoulders, feeling Rhys' hand slide over his headgear and into his obsidian hair, the ancient cyborg's lips locked with the young Orakian prince's.
Oblivious were they to Maia's choking sobs, Lena's hoarse screams, Lyle's firey epithets, and Mieu's stony silence. And above the vocal chaos that broke over the crowd like a tidal wave, one voice, and one order.
With a startled gasp, Shiren broke the kiss, and stared at Rhys, wide-eyed. Startled, Rhys placed his hands on Shiren's shoulders and thrust him to arm's length.
Traveling down from rapidly clouding eyes, the reason for it was all too clear; the sword sticking out from Shiren's ribcage, its tip stained with blood and smeared with oil, spoke for him as he slumped to the ground, lifeless.
With a twist and a yank, the Layan footsoldier standing behind him wrenched his blade from Shiren's corpse, his features twisted into a sadistic grin. He looked up at the Orakian prince, and growled, "If it were up to me, you'd be getting yours right about now, too. It's no less than what you deserve." He finished cleaning his sword, stood up, and then spat at Rhys to accentuate his point. "Filthy Orakians."
The chamber was now in full chaos; King Cille attempting to hold a spitting, snarling Lyle back from charging forward and killing Rhys himself; King Landen resting his head in his hand, wondering what he could have possibly done wrong, to have his eldest son turn out like this; Mieu attempting to tend to a shellshocked Lena as a team of Layan healers saw to the now-fanted Maia, scowling over at the Orakian princess and her cyborg companion; Rhys cradling Shiren's shell in his arms, weeping disconsolately.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, 'It might have been'."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Notes:
It's been a long time since I've attempted anything in the PS phan community (and there's plenty of blame to go around for that, folks!). So why here? Why now? Perhaps to reclaim a shred of my former pride in myself, to give myself the validation I never got from certain other people coughneilastcough.
Why this story? AFAIK, it was the first-known PS shonen-ai, written only because certain other people thought that such things were "evil" and "unnatural". It was once meant to be the ending of a much larger piece of work, but after all this time, I've been told that it stands rather well on its own. So a few minor tweaks, and lo!
And yes, I know that Shiren and Mieu are Androids and not Cyborgs; I know what the difference between them is. But the people of the Alisa III do not, and so Cyborgs they remain, as per the US translation of PSIII, however inaccurate. Besides, at the time that this was originally written, I didn't know any better...
Comments? Criticism? Ah, what the hell. Flame on, you trolls!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Story ©OnnaWren DiVahala, 2000, 2004. Reproduction without express consent strictly prohibited. Phantasy Star™ and all related trademarks property of Sega.