oOo
"Once up on a time, long, long ago, in a land far, far, far, far, far, far, far, so completely and utterly frustratingly far away, there lived a prince who was as fair as freshly fallen snow.
His blue hair like the sky on a summer's day and his coral blue eyes like gem incrusted spheres.
The sparkling robes that clung to his petite figure glowed almost ethereally, as he walked thought the forest, searching for something he knew not of, as if each woven strand was harvested from apatite gems.
Sapphire rings hugged his fingers and the jewels that crowned his head would put an entire Empire's riches to shame.
An onyx incrusted piercing on his ear lobe whispered to him of his troubled past, muttering to him secrets he already knew of.
Something was tugging on his hand, as if he were to break and shatter into pieces if it was not gentle enough.
Ah, yes, he remembers now, the hero was rescuing him from the sorceress.
He felt an emotion. He knew not what it was of, imprisoned for eighteen years – he's long forgotten the feeling of emotions.
Perhaps, if this wasn't so long ago and painfully far away, he'd be rescued sooner. Perhaps he'd be rescued by a dashing prince, such as myself. But no. For now, he'll have to settle for this sorry excuse of a hero. Anyway, back to the story -
He can hear the sorceress whisper, like one hundred out of timing voices overlapping each other and it in cases him, encloses him, cocoons him.
Her whispers filled the forest, muttering to the trees about the sins of man, mumbling to the flowers about the wrath of God, chanting of justice to the fauna.
The prince looks forward to this story. This story that you are hearing because he knows it's all too clichéd, but he still looks forward to the happy ending. He looks forward to his life with the hero and the death of the sorceress because that is how fairy tales work.
Well, unfortunately for the prince, I don't like the hero. No. It could've been me, I'm much better. I know that for a fact and I'm always right. But, fortunately for the prince, I don't like the sorceress either.
To be completely honest with you, I think she'd be better described as a witch, because let's be honest with ourselves here, when you think sorceress, you think an elegant and graceful lady with long flowing hair, softly glowing eyes and body that you'd die for.
But when you say witch, what do you think? Well, let me tell you what you're supposed to think. You think of a four foot three, old lady, dressed in rags, hunched over a pot filled with a bubbling green mixture of God knows what, manically cackling. That's what you think – don't argue with me on this.
Anyway, once again, back to the story -
But the whispers grow and it's deafening to him so he barely hears it when the hero lets out a blood curling scream. The hero screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams and screams but no one can hear him, not even the prince.
The onyx piercing stops muttering to him of troubled times and tells him to run. Run as fast as he can because now he's covered in a red liquid.
His silk robes, his diamond blue hair, his pale skin, his sapphire rings are all soaked in it and he cringes.
He doesn't know what the red liquid is called or why its scent is so foul but he's seen the liquid come out of him once but this time he's certain that it doesn't belong to him.
So when he looks up at the hero he gags and a red hand covers his mouth because now the hero's missing both his eyes, the bottom half of his jaw and half of his stomach.
But the prince still looks forward to this story. He looks forward to the story with the happy ending because he's a prince who's been imprisoned by an evil witch so when his hero finally comes to rescue him he's supposed to get a happy ending because that's how fairy tales work.
Unfortunately, this is neither the tale of a fairy nor does it have a happy ending."
.
"A-Aka-Akashicchi! That was the worst story I've ever heard!" Kise Ryota screeches as pale fingers wipe away tears.
"I've done as you've requested Ryota, now tell me what you found that's so important"
Kise knows that Akashi can tell when he's lying, but when the red head actually tells him a story in exchange for the information he's in awe.
Although the blonde can't help but hesitate when he's about to tell Akashi just what it is he's found because Kise's sure whether he spills the beans to Akashi or not, either way he'll lose a limb.
But before his life can flash before his eyes, it flashes back to the day he found it.
.
Kise Ryota knew all too well that he should not be playing with magic in Akashi's palace because he's certain, if Akashi finds out, it'll be the end of his short lived life.
But the blonde just can't help it because the mirrors in Akashi's palace are almost ethereal.
The way they give of an unearthly sheen.
The smoothness of the surface.
The tingle it sends down Ryota's spine when he travels through them.
Kise's been using mirrors, going back and forth between dimensions, for his entire life, but the mirrors in Akashi's palace are exquisite.
It's unlike anything he's ever seen before.
It's almost unbelievable.
Too unbelievable.
Kise can't help but think that Akashi's playing him.
He knows that Akashi's been playing him.
He knows that Akashi knows that he's been playing with magic in his palace.
The red head probably enchanted the mirrors.
Ryota's probably being slowly poisoned every time he passes through a mirror.
So when a petrified Kise apologizes to Akashi, without a doubt, the reincarnation of Satan is fully well aware of Ryota's escapades.
What bewilders the amber-eyed boy is not that Akashi somehow knows of his mischievous endeavors. No. It's when Akashi is blatantly oblivious to the quality of mirrors he has in his care.
It's when Akashi denies ever putting any form of enchantment over his mirrors.
It's when Akashi calls them normal mirrors and tells Kise to get out of his castle.
But those amber-eyes spark with understanding when he finds it.
He's hesitant to tell Akashi at first because some poor soul is going to lose their life and Kise doesn't want to be held accountable for murder.
But he'll surly lose his life if he doesn't tell Akashi.
So he takes one more look at it before he tells Akashi.
He can faintly recognize some of the words but the rest are gibberish.
Because it is the only mirror he cannot travel through.
And it is clearly enchanted.
oOo
Seijūrō pinches the bridge of his nose.
He hasn't slept in four days and Ryota's not helping. It's not like he needs sleep to begin with, but Ryota is draining what little energy he has left. The blonde's waling, and his screeches are certainly not helping Seijūrō concentrate on the book he's reading.
"Ryota," His voice is enough to get the boy to shut up, "If what you are referring to is the mirror which you are unable to pass through, then yes, I already know of it."
"Y-You know, Akashicchi?" The younger prince steers at him, his eyes a boiling pot of awe and betrayal.
"Do you think that mirror is in the deepest room in my dungeon because I fancy having it there to look at myself?"
The blonde casts his gaze skywards, as if contemplating Seijūrō's words, and the red head has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.
"Then why is it there? I can always help you break the enchantment." Ryota says and for a minute Seijūrō can't help but wonder if Ryota really does have a mental problem of the sorts.
"As powerful as you may be, Ryota, you cannot break the enchantment."
Seijūrō's not lying. It's not that he doesn't want Ryota to touch the mirror, which is true, but if he tries to break the enchantment, there's a good chance that it'll shatter.
"But," He whines, "I can understand some of the words in it Akashicchi! Let me do it!"
"Yes, but you cannot understand all of it, now can you." It's not a question.
"N-no, but-"
"If I wrote, 'Climb that mountain, there are poisonous gases at the top, however, live and I will reward you.' And you can only read, 'Climb that mountain, and I will reward you.' What do you thing will happen? It is the same with breaking enchantments, Ryota."
The nightmare fey looks like he's about to object, and Seijūrō knows he'll say something stupid like, 'I'll translate it.'
"Then I'll translate it! It can't be that hard!"
Patience is a virtue, Seijūrō reminds himself.
"You cannot, Ryota," Before the boy can interrupt him he continues on, "Do you know why."
It's not a question to be answered and much to Seijūrō's pleasure the blonde just furrows his eyebrows.
"Because it is in the original text of the dream fey."
.
Ryota's eyes would make saucers jealous.
"But…that's…impossible..."
If what Akashi said was true. No matter what fraction you belonged to. No matter how powerful of a faery you are. It's almost impossible to translate the original text of the dream fey. However, if one were to make the impossible possible, the translated text makes absolutely no sense. They both knew this from experience.
It's one of the basic enchantments in faery magic – a simple spell to lock doors. Easy to cast and easy to break. So simple, yet so easy to screw up. And because of this, Ryota's locked himself in more times than he's willing to admit.
But, much to Ryota's fortune – it's easy to break. Usually, it's a spell to counter act it – because, obliviously, if the room's on fire, translating it is going to take too long.
That, however, is not the case with dream fey enchantments.
The dream fey were weak – unnaturally so.
They couldn't hurt a fly even if they wanted to. So what they lacked for in offense, they made up for in defense. Their enchantments were impossible to break or translate.
Translating a spell was a difficult thing. One would usually translate the spell from one fey language to another then recite it to break the enchantment.
But when it came to the original language of the dream fey, it's almost humorous as to how such a weak Fraction can be so strong. When reciting the translation of the original text of the dream fey to break the enchantment, it back fired.
Terribly so.
Horribly.
When Ryota tried to break a dream fey lock enchantment he ended up turning himself into a horse for two weeks.
But he was a beautiful horse.
No matter what Akashi said.
Akashi.
He knew dream fey better than anybody.
The dream fey themselves were…special.
But it was without a doubt that they all hated Akashi.
For thousands of years, they lived in the sky, interacting with no civilization but their own. But they didn't do this of their own free will – they were forced. It was almost sad. Ryota really did take pity on them. That is why he has zero tolerance with dream fey salves in his kingdom.
The Dream Fey are beautiful. It's something Ryota can't deny. What they lacked for in power they made up in appearance. Everything about them was perfect. From their hair to their feet – even miniscule details– perfect.
They're celestial beings.
Creatures of sublime sophistication.
Ethereal.
Beguiling.
Indescribable.
Godly.
Ryota can't think of anymore big words. He's never been one to have fancy vocabulary.
But their beauty was their biggest downfall.
They were attacked.
Killed.
Slaughtered.
Royta'd say that there's only about one tenth of the race alive.
And that was completely Akashi's fault.
What Akashi did certainly was not a good thing, but it was understandable. If anything, Ryota thinks that it was just.
Wait, wait, wait, hold it, and stop writing for just one minute. Oh, the beginning was beautiful – completely captivating, for a minute there, I actually believed you were a decent author. But no.
Sigh.
You're worse than I thought.
First of all what lies are you spouting, dearest author of mine? Well, technically, they're not lies. But you could've at least sugar coated it! You're making me sound like the bad guy! I don't want to be the bad guy! I don't want to be evil anymore! I want to be a saint! I want my life sized statue in every church. I'm talking five foot four, red hair, red eyes – wait.
Do you know who I am? Well of course you do. You're probably a teenaged girl sitting there, reading stories of me kissing the blue haired brat. What a pervert you are.
But allow me to introduce myself anyway.
I'm the prince of the dark fey, Akashi Seijūrō, and yes, I've killed off most of the dream fey, but who cares!
Not me, that's who!
And NO! I'm not going to be the emotionless, cold hearted bastard who thinks he's always right (even though I am, because, come on, I'm Akashi Seijūrō, someone just had to say it) because I want to be a saint! I want to fight evil! Save souls by the millions!
I'd describe myself as undeniably charming, witty, endlessly resourceful, a natural leader – a creature of sublime intricacy, to make it short. Doesn't that make me sound irresistible?
Well it's because I am!
And before I go on to continue this half-assed, poorly written story, let me assure you – I know damned well how to be a full-fledged, post-popular writer. That is, you're going to get a full-dressed story here – with a beginning, middle and end. I'm talking plot, characters, suspense and the works.
It's unfortunate that I don't get to narrate this entire weird-ass-fairy-tale-wanna-be story. Due to my character development, I must leave you in the incapable hands of my writer.
And PLEASE! Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls, don't hate me! Yes I'm an asshole in this story but who cares? I'm Akashi Seijūrō, soon-to-be saint. I'm going to be the Pope one day! You just watch me!
So while I'm here let me confess to you the sins of my ancestors. Well, not my ancestors but me. But that sounded pretty cool.
Well, a long time ago, I was promised the dream fey Queen's first born hand in marriage. It's tradition, blah, blah, blah, that the prince of the darkest fraction, blah, blah, blah, (that being me not to brag) was to marry the first born of a light fraction.
And well, without my consent, my father chose the dream fey. They were all very beautiful; I'm not one to deny it, so I didn't really have a problem. Even if I did the only thing a five-year-old me could've done was throw a tantrum and throw something in my father's face.
Which, in my opinion, would've served him right! Would've toned down his pride a notch or two! Showed him who the boss was!
I remember being given the kid on his birthday. Literally right after he was born. (And funfact: faeries were born with a full head of hair and teeth! Chew yourself out of your mother's womb! Who cares!) He was just like I described him in the beginning, blue hair, blue eyes. Kinda weird, but who am I to talk?
And I fell in love with him.
Now, I can 'fall in love' with just about anyone – man, woman, child, the Pope. It doesn't matter. My love was a twisted love where I viewed people as objects I owned. So loving the boy was easy. Especially a good-looking boy like him, I quickly added him to the list of cool things I owned.
I owned a lot of things, but not much cool things.
So I leave him in his crib and I go to sleep in my chambers, because every overly possessive five year old needs their sleep. Sometimes I'd go in an empty, dark room and laugh, but that's creepy and not relevant right now.
When I come back the next day it's gone! My cool thing is gone! Vanished! They stole it from right under my nose! I screamed and cried and yes, I threw a tantrum, and yes, I threw something at my father because yes, he deserved it.
I demanded, with a string of snot slowly dripping down my nose and burning crimson eyes, that the dream fey be killed. All except for my cool thing of course.
My father happily obliged, he was going to do it whether or not I said so anyway. Under my command they were slaughtered, although, I did give them a day's notice before, I gave them a chance. Give back my thing or die. They chose the latter.
But their tertiary didn't stop there! No! Can you believe it!
They took the day I gave them to hide my thing! They hid it! They stole it and then hid it! What blasphemy! I don't know what blasphemy means but it sounds fitting! I am upset! Look at these exclamation marks!
Sigh.
Now, of course, the weakening of their defense did have some unexpected back lash. The survivors were forced into trafficking, arranged marriages and the such, well, just solely because of their appearance – the other dark fractions kicked them while they were down.
Sigh again.
I do feel guilty for their continued suffering sometimes. I only wanted to teach them a lesson…
Up to this day I still have that betraying King and Queen in my dungeon, rotting away until they are ready to give up the location of their hidden son. But no! They think I'm a monster! Can you believe that? A monster! They said it! To my face!
Hmph! When I'm a saint, I'll make sure to tell God to curse them! Just watch me!
I'm pretty sure I know where their son is and I'm so close to getting my cool thing back but! That's for chapter two! Maybe three! Or four! Who knows how this train wreck of a story will go?
What do I care?
I'll be taking my leave now that I've justified myself but will I be back?
I'm not going to tell you!
I'm just kidding of course I will. What kind of saint leaves his readers in the dark! I promised you a story after all!
But sadly that story is not this one. I'll be taking you with me on my path to holiness in a next beautifully written narrative. Until then, adios! Sayonara! Time for me to tap dance outta here! Now back to the (poorly written) story!
"Calm yourself, Ryota."
Akashi's voice snaps him out of his enraged trance and he can't help but notice the book he's reading.
'Snow White'
"Is that one of those foolish, human, 'fairy tales' you're reading Akashicchi?" The younger prince regards the book with a look of disgust as if someone is dangling rotten cheese in front of his face.
"Indeed it is." Seijūrō's frowns at the amber-eyed boy, clearly perturbed at the face he's making.
But the hint of emotion is gone as quickly as it comes and Seijūrō's eyes go dark as if completely enraged as he regards Ryota. And it sends a shiver down the boy's spine at the sudden change in emotion.
"Ryota," his next words are lined with venom and spite and Ryota feels it like a dagger to the heart, "Did you hear any voices when in the chamber with the mirror? Preferably a woman's."
What?
The blonde has half of a mind to question Akashi, but he decides against it, he'd like to keep his limbs, even if it's just for today. To Kise, Akashi is the personification of anger, hatred, fear, death and all of the bad things in the world.
So it's better not to question him while he's asking about talking mirrors and dream fey enchantments because Akashi's already killed more than three quarters of a race and the nightmare fey doesn't have a death wish.
"N-No."
"Good." The deadly aura emitting from the prince is gone and he turns to Ryota and smiles.
It's a crooked smile. A smile that makes Ryota uncomfortable in every way possible.
A smile that puts Kise's being into turmoil because while he can't deny that Akashi's smile is dashing, there's something about it that's disturbingly off. Because while his smile says 'happy', his eyes say 'murder'.
"If you ever lay your eyes upon that filthy mirror again, Ryota, I'll kill you."
oOo
A/N : Hello all! I hope this doesn't sound like if it's some weird fairy tale wanna be shiz ;A;
Anyway, Akashi's narrative is inspired from Anne Rice's: Blood Canticle, I even quoted Lestat, this is just a disclaimer that I don't own anything
Please tell me what you think! Remember that rewievs are love! And I have no love!
I really wanted an opinion on Akashi's narrative character, because I'm thinking about writing a story where he narrates the entire thing and if you guys think that it's just too OOC then, well of course, I won't write it.
oOo