A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. (Nephrite was lost but good.) Thank you to everyone who had patience - I hope this is an ample reward.
You can also follow this story over on AO3. Google "ao3 Lyaka" and you'll find me, as well as my works in other fandoms never posted on this site.
Rain was drumming against the windows of his bedroom. Mamoru thought, sleepily, that the weather sensors must have finally let a storm front come through. Outside his door came the soft murmur of voices, the sound of a teapot whistling, the cheerful crackle of a fire. He should get up soon. With his father the King gone to negotiate with the rebels in the east, Endymion was left holding the throne in the heart of Terra.
("The rebels are massing in the eastern lands.")
("Very well. Prepare my guard. I will deal with this personally.")
("Father, you shouldn't. They are not willing to negotiate!")
("I do not believe they are as aggressive as that. They have disagreements, grievances, certainly. But these are things that can be discussed.")
He frowned in his sleep. No, that wasn't right. The rebels weren't interested in negotiation.
(Endymion wanted to scream. "Father, that is not just a gathering of discontents! They are building an army!")
(King Eltosian held up a commanding hand and fixed his son with a stern look. "Not every gathering of force is an army. The rebels wish to be perceived as strong, so that their demands will carry more weight.")
("My king," High General Adain intervened, her voice carrying clearly through the charged air between father and son. "My reports do indicate that the rebels are organizing themselves along military lines.")
(Prime Minister Altenna stepped forward, drawing the King's attention. "They have gathered a leadership that includes many members of the lesser nobility who are discontented with your majesty's pursuit of diplomacy with the Silver Alliance. These nobles have great symbolic significance. They present an alternative to your majesty's rule. The people may be inclined to view this favorably, if they successfully pursue a military campaign.")
("I cannot and will not believe they would plunge Earth into war over something so minor!")
("It's not minor to them," Endymion tried to explain. "These are younger sons or minor nobles whose lands and holdings do not support them fully. They maintain their lifestyle through trade and marriage. Entry into the Silver Alliance threatens them! Powerful nobles will seek to connect themselves with the nobility of the other planets instead of allowing their younger daughters to marry lesser lords. System-wide trade agreements will destroy their livelihood. They will fight to preserve their way of life.")
(King Eltosian had waited patiently, letting Endymion speak, but the distance in his eyes spoke louder than words that his mind was made up. He stood up; automatically the other occupants of the room rose to their feet. His gaze swept over them.)
("I am going to show them the error of their ways. We must put an end to all of this foolishness. They simply need to have the matter explained to them.")
Mamoru tossed fitfully. Going to negotiate with the rebels was a mistake, he knew it was. Eltosian hadn't understood how threatened some of his people were by a treaty with the Silver Alliance. His Father was a good King, but he'd never lived among the people or learned much about their ways of life. Not that Endymion had, either. But unlike his Father's guard, who were all of the highest nobility, the Prince's shitennou were younger sons and lesser nobles from the farther-flung provinces. They still heard from their troubled peers, and Endymion heard from them.
He knew this was no mere negotiating tactic. The rebels weren't posturing, they were in deadly earnest. But Eltosian been so determined to go no one could stop him, not even Adain, his bodyguard since birth and closest companion.
("My son, come here.")
(Endymion stepped forward to stand beside his father's mount. The courtyard was full of stamping horses and laden wagons, all prepared for the journey to the east.)
(Eltosian placed his hand upon Endymion's head. "You have always done everything I have asked of you," he said in a quiet voice. "We have not always agreed, but your heart is good and your character is strong. I am well pleased with you.")
(The King raised his voice to carry to all present. "While I am gone, you will rule these lands in my stead. The Prime Minister and the High General will place themselves at your command. You will carry the responsibility and the rights of rulership.")
("Father!")
("Serve our people well," he added in a quieter voice. "When I return, we will discuss a division of power. I am getting old, and it's time the people began to know your face.")
(Eltosian smiled down at his son. Looking back up, he gave the order to proceed. Slowly, the caravan wound its way out of the city.)
Usagi watched her husband's disturbed sleep with a frown of her own. Mamoru had not been able to sleep soundly for the last week. At first she had been willing to write it off as restlessness, or eagerness, or an excess of emotion from three reunions in as many weeks. But the nights were getting worse, not better. She wasn't sure yet how this related to Nephrite's continued absence, but she was getting less and less able to convince herself that it was a coincidence.
(Endymion sipped from his glass and smiled automatically at the latest lord to beseech his aid. It seemed that the farmers of the western lands were encountering an unusual number of bandits, who were surprisingly well-armed and organized. It was wreaking havoc with the food supply for the entire western quadrant.)
(The man before him was a personal emissary directly from Byron, Prince of the Western Lands. He hadn't yet led up to it yet, but Endymion expected to be asked for a detachment of the Terran Army to assist the Western Guards in protecting their heartland. He had already decided to grant the request. It was what his father would have done.)
("Your Majesty!" The sight and sound of the door swinging open shattered the calm atmosphere like a knife. Nephrite was on his feet and between the prince and danger before the echoes of the cry had finished returning from the stone walls.)
(Endymion recognized the man in the doorway from councils with his father. Darew was one of the best spies working for the royal throne. His skills lay in illusion; he could walk through the palace freely and show a different face to whomever he needed to deceive. But this overt act of intrusion was not in character for the soft-footed man who preferred to fade unobtrusively into the crowd.)
("My father is not yet returned," Endymion said calmly, attempting to restore Darew to his senses. The prince gestured to Nephrite, who stepped aside enough for him to converse directly with the spy, though his guardian remained close and preserved an attitude of alertness.)
(Darew darted a glance at the visiting nobleman from the west.)
(Endymion turned to the emissary smoothly. "Lord Malven, I regret that an urgent matter appears to have arisen. Perhaps we could resume this later? After you have dined with me tonight, at my table?")
(Malven could not be pleased at the interruption, but as Endymion had hoped, the sign of favor a royal dinner conferred smoothed the sting. "Of course. Your Highness." He stood and bowed, then withdrew gracefully.)
("Your Majesty," Darew repeated urgently the moment the door closed behind Malven. He took two steps towards Endymion, slowly, out of deference to the looming shitennou of the west, but deliberately. The little spy knelt, took Endymion's hands in his, and formally kissed the back of each.)
(A sudden chill settled itself around Endymion's heart.)
("You are doubtless unaware I was traveling with your father as a silent member of his train," Darew said hoarsely. "At High General Adain's orders, I was to witness the negotiations from a distance and return to report if things did not go as well as the king planned.")
(Endymion controlled his breathing and ordered his voice to calmness. "And how are the negotiations going?")
(Something hot and wet splashed on the back of his hand. "There were no negotiations. The rebels have declared war on you and your line. They say you are blood traitors and accursed.")
(To Endymion's left, Nephrite made a sound of utter disbelief, eyes going wide.)
("And my father?")
(Darew's fingers tightened convulsively on Endymion's. "The king is dead. Long live the king.")
(Endymion felt the world falling away beneath his feet.)
Mamoru jerked awake, trembling. He put a hand to his face and discovered it was wet with tears.
"Mamo-chan?" Usagi rolled over and reached out for him. "Are you all right?"
He buried his face in her neck. Beneath her fingers, his skin was clammy and cold. "I don't know, Usako. I don't know."
"Heading out early, Ishikawa?"
The young man so addressed turned. "Yes, a little. There are delays on the subway tonight, I hear."
Mizuki, the department head, blinked in surprise. "I hadn't heard that." He glanced out the window as if he could see backed-up trains and a flood of commuters from the forty-fifth floor. "That's unfortunate. Maybe you should stay in the city tonight?"
Ishikawa Nobuo's smile was a little embarrassed, but his voice was firm. "My mother would be disappointed. She only gets to see me once a month, after all."
"Well, family is important. You go on ahead, then. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thanks, Mizuki-san." The elevator bank pinged. With a wave, the young man left.
The delays on the subway didn't turn out to be too bad. He was only fifteen minutes behind his normal time when he jogged through the station and caught his usual regional train out to the suburbs. It would make for a boring ride, though, since he'd had to skip a visit to the newsstand. At least he'd been able to pick up a bento to eat during the ride. And tonight they hadn't yet been sold out of the tofu. His mother would laugh at Nobuo's caution, reminding Nobuo that he had always been skinny. But since becoming an adult, there had been many fewer opportunities for physical activity, and it never hurt to be cautious. Several of his older colleagues had had to go on diets, and were always warning the younger ones to take care what they ate.
A new gym had opened up along one of the streets he walked to reach the regional train. Once again, Nobuo thought of stopping in one evening. Maybe signing up for a class. He'd enjoyed martial arts as a youth. Since the place had opened three months ago, he had been meaning to drop in on his way out of town, but one thing or another always seemed to conspire against him. Once it had been a late meeting at work; another time Yamada-san's retirement party had left him full enough as it was. Last time the line at the newsstand had been longer than usual and he'd had to run to make his train. Tonight it was the subway delay.
Oh well. Another time. In the meanwhile, finished with his meal, Nobuo leaned back against his chair and watched the scenery go by.
(The boy fidgeted irritably. They had been standing in this crowd for a long time now, a time he youthfully described to himself as "forever". It was late summer, time for the crops to be brought in. Every other day of every other year of his life, when the sun stood high and the nights were slowly turning to chill, he had been out in the fields with everyone he had ever known, gathering the harvest.)
("Why are we here?")
(His mother smoothed down his hair and resettled the clothing the boy had disturbed with his restlessness. "We are here to meet the prince, dear one.")
(This answer was not new; it was the same he had been given before. He had asked the question last night, when he was told to bathe out of turn and scrubbed within an inch of his life, despite his protests of not being a baby anymore. He had asked it again this morning after he had been woken early and they had climbed aboard the automotion carriages bound for Atalantia. Once again had he asked after they had reached their station in the crowd of families, packed into the hallway of a larger building than he had ever dreamed was possible to build. At first the marble halls and flashing electronics had impressed him, and he had daydreamed the afternoon away. Now, as he sensed night falling outside, his wonder had turned to loneliness. His sisters would be preparing the evening meal now, laughing with each other over the day's minor events. His father would be settling in with his evening's occupation, while over the one-way came music or stories to fill the air.)
(He looked around, hoping to at least spot a familiar face. His mother had told him that all of the children from his school would be here today, if they were older than seven and younger than fifteen. But so far he had seen no one he recognized.)
(The time ticked by. He yawned. The hallway was less full now, but there were still more people present than lived in his home village.)
(Then he had a new thought. Emboldened, he tugged at his mother's sleeve again.)
("I don't want to meet the prince!")
(His mother's laugh was soft but sincere. "But my dear, what if the prince wants to meet you?")
(He fell silent. This was an even larger, newer thought. He pondered it over carefully.)
(His mother rose to her feet and tugged him up with her. "Come now, dear one, it's our turn.")
(She led him into an enormous room. He thought it was too big for him and his mother and the few other people in it. They were all clustered in the center of the large room, as if in agreement with him. There were a lot of adults, as always, but he was interested to see another boy who looked to be his own age. He was standing very straight and tall, looking right at him, with black hair and very blue eyes.)
("Are you the prince?" he asked.)
(The raven-haired boy nodded.)
(He let go of his mother's hand and walked up to the other boy. Several adults in the room drew in sharp breaths or looked disapproving, but he paid them no mind. He had been thinking very hard, and now he wanted to ask another question.)
("Do you want to meet me?")
(The raven-haired boy blinked in surprise, and twitched, as if he were fighting the reflex to look at one of the adults nearby. The two boys were staring at each other from only a few feet apart now, and he waited to hear the answer.)
(The prince's face blossomed into an unexpected smile. "Yes!" he said.)
