It was very unfortunate that I found my fiance too plain when compared to her cousin.

She was small, and child-like, her blue eyes locked on me, a relatively pretty girl, but she was already too much like a scared prey animal for my liking. She barely curtsied when she was introduced, the poor thing. It was all rather contrived and quite uninteresting.

Her cousin, though, was tall and elegant, with a smile that was only dulled by the devious look in his deep, purple eyes. I nearly asked him to marry me, but I found the humor may be have fallen on the deaf ears of his wife, who now had such a grip on her husband's arm that I would have expected him to have a pained expression on his face.

I sipped a bit at my glass, trying to filter through the constant stimulation of the people around me. My ears burned more with the constant chatter than my throat burned with the hard alcohol. I couldn't focus on a spot that wasn't the ceiling through the hair that fell over my forehead, and it set me off guard. If I looked down for a moment, my eyes my linger too long on my newest object of infatuation, and I knew my evening would somehow be ruined. I tried to listen again to what was happening around me.

My father spoke to my fiance's father, who described her to be of the highest pedigree. She was quiet and subservient, a talented singer and domestic, though those skills were nearly useless for someone of her status.

She was to marry a prince of a far off land, and would become queen at my father's death. What use were domestic skills when she would be nothing more than the mother of my children? She wouldn't even take part in raising those children, for that matter. The queen's job was to be the king's wife, but there was always some reason to portray the girl as useful for more than just the girl I will spend my evenings with.

"Kaito is a talented young man," I found it strange to hear my father speak my name. He so rarely spoke it, that I nearly forgot that he knew it. "He is best swordsman I have ever laid my eyes on. He is reserved and level headed, and the best suited for the crown of my sons."

My fiance's father laughed, "Then I must introduce him formally to my nephew. The two of them may have quite a bit in common."

I looked over to my fiance's cousin, who had been introduced as Gakupo when I had first arrived. He looked at me, his smile reappearing. I detected the hint of mischievousness in that gaze. I found myself desperately wanting to know what he was thinking in that moment. I wished he would speak, so I could hear his low voice again.

I turned my direction from the ceiling and watched my father talk to my fiance's father with such urgency. My father, the ruthless King of the West, was speaking so comfortably to the brother of the King of the East. The King, Gakupo's father, was away on business, and by proxy the Prince sat across from me, his legs crossed, to take his place. I tried my best to stay as cool as him as I tried not to look in his direction, but everytime, our eyes would meet, I could feel a blush on my ears that burned so feverishly that I nearly had to excuse myself.

It's an illness, I'm convinced, something that God thrust upon me in an attempt to force me to stray from his demands. My own attraction to men was something I feared would be my demise, and in this moment I knew my descent into the deepest regions of hell would begin. It was almost sickening how much I was attracted to him, but what of attraction, anyway? It's not like it was worth anything to him, or anyone for that matter.

There were so many people in this small space. All were talking and laughing over one another, all in an attempt to strike the attention of the right person. Both of those people, however, were too caught up with each other to care. My father would not have any business with any of the other people in this room, as he was too arrogant to even acknowledge those so beneath him. My fiance's father wanted to boast too much of his own bloodline, more than likely to enforce my marriage to his daughter. This would at least guarantee his position in this kingdom and that of the West.

Even now, we were in the kingdom of the East, and would be until my wedding. Seven days away from my own home left me a bit displeased, but it wasn't difficult to drown that uncomfortable feeling with tremendous amounts of alcohol and my burning desire force myself on the Prince.

Even with those ways to suffer though this trip, it was all so boring. Iit isn't uncommon for someone like myself to feel this way, but I felt so distant from the crown. I wish that I could have been my younger brother, who was home now, spending time with our mother in his young age. At least it would be unlikely that he would become the king, the sickly child he was. Full responsibility would fall on my own shoulders.

My attention was caught once again by the prince that sat across from me. When he caught my gaze again, he smiled and spoke my name with such a low voice I nearly froze. My wish to hear him speak was granted.

I barely coughed out a small answer, hoping that I wasn't making myself so obvious.

"You seem a bit off, boy," Both my father and my fiance's father had stopped talking to acknowledge Gakupo's voice after a period of silence, undoubtedly curious. "Do come with me. I think a bit of fresh air will help clear that cluttered mind."

I looked to my father for a split second, and back to the man extending his invitation. I forced myself to take it, knowing that my father would only encourage it.

Gakupo's smile extended a bit more as he began to stand. His wife desperately held onto his arm, but he shook her off, leaving her to sit alongside my fiance, whose face was downcast. I nearly felt pained for them, but they should have not been sitting with him in the first place. It's not a young woman's place to be in the company of men.

My thoughts raced as I followed him out of the crowded room, pushing past the groups of people that had been fueling an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. I ignored them now, though, focusing on the man leading me, and the way his body moved.

It was the whisky. The whisky made my sinful thoughts so much more vivid. I could nearly feel his skin on my teeth as I watched him walk before me.

When we exited the room, and the servants closed the doors, I found the quiet hall to be much more peaceful, but the anxiety still remained. I still walked behind the prince, unsure of where exactly he was leading to me.

I could almost feel his long hair tangled in my fingertips, fueled by pathetic longing.

He was taller than myself, by a few inches, and his shoulders were wider than my own. His face was sharp, the sign of a true aristocrat, from his nose to his chin, connected to his long neck.

I wanted to feel my hands on that pristine neck.

"You're quiet." He said, after a few moments of silence. He stopped and turned a bit to look at me.

I took a few steps to stop beside him. "I don't have very much to say." I knew it was a blunt response, but I wanted to keep myself from trying to impulsively act upon my desires with the amount of alcohol I had managed to drink. It had to have been four glasses, though maybe five may have been more accurate with the way I was drinking.

He smiled and continued forward. I followed.

"That's a fair argument." He looked at me. "But, that does make it difficult when one is supposed to make an acquaintance."

I was already infatuated with the way he spoke. I knew his voice would be the one that plagued my dreams.

"You're not wrong." I didn't know what to tell him. I didn't necessarily want to talk to him, as it just makes my own desires the more difficult to handle. I wanted to listen to him and imagine the noises that those lips would make if I kissed the nape of his neck.

"Of course I'm not wrong. I merely know your father's praise. What if you're worse than he portrays you?" I watched the wicked spark rise in his eyes again.

"I would like to think that I'm not." I wasn't one to jest well, but I wanted to see more of his impish nature and pressed on. "Why would you think so poorly of me?"

He stopped, and opened a door, gesturing me to walk out into the night. I walked into the cool air and waited for his response. He closed the door behind us, leaving us alone in the full moonlight.

"It is your father's job to arrange a marriage for you, isn't it? I doubt he would be saying anything but positive things about you." He walked to a table that was set up near the door. I sat in the chair across from him. "What if you're unbearable? Or you could be illiterate? Maybe illegitimate?"

I shook my head, trying my best to stay as lighthearted as possible. "I'm my father's son, and I can read quite well. I suppose it would be up for debate if I am unbearable, though."

He tapped one slender finger on his lips. I didn't know what I wanted more; to kiss those fingers or his lips. I tried my best not to focus too much on the action, but I was beginning to obsess over it.

In the low light, his skin almost glowed. I wonder if he had ever walked in the sun a day in his life. I doubted it with its perfect condition. It was a true sign of royalty, afterall. I thought about how easy it would be to bruise that skin.

"Are you really a swordsman?"

"I am."

"You're a bit brute-ish to be a proper swordsman."

I was taken back by the forward comment, not expecting such a response to come from his pretty mouth so soon. I was pleased by it, nonetheless. I wanted such a response from him, after all.

"That is quite a claim to make."

"You have heavy footfall. You also move a bit too stiffly." He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed.

He must have been watching me nearly as close as I had been watching him. It was becoming more difficult for me to respond.

"I don't happen to have a sword in my hand." I replied, finally. I knew my blush was rising with my excitement. He had been paying attention to me. It was the very least I could ask for.

"I don't think much would change if I put a sword in your hand."

I laughed at him, from both my nearly drunken state to my attempts to hide my affinity for him. "You're speaking quite boldly about someone you don't know."

"You haven't made an effort to convince me otherwise." He was smug. I wonder if it was because of the alcohol or if he was always like this.

"I can't very well pull a sword on you now." I leaned back in my own chair now, curious as to where this man was taking this conversation.

"But you could tell me something about yourself. Something that may convince me that you're a magnificent swordsman."

I looked at him, trying to keep a reasonable amount of eye contact with him. It was difficult, though, as I felt myself misreading every action he made. "There isn't anything I can tell you to convince you. I could only show you."

I became more unsettled when he laughed. I wanted to hear it with his lips near my ear, my fingers running across his skin. When he stopped, he spoke with a smile. "You're more bearable than I anticipated."

"And I'll assume that is a compliment." I brushed my hair out of my face, trying to do something to keep myself from staring at him.

He stared at me for a few moments. He seemed to have something on his mind, but I decided not to ask what that was. We sat in silence, with him staring at me awkwardly not trying to look at him.

"Are you God fearing, Kaito?"

I should have been disturbed by that question, but it was a question I had longed to answer for my entire life.

I wasn't sure if I was God fearing. I was in my youth, at my sexual awakening. I was not pleased to discover where my own interests lie. I thought it was a test, and that if I tried my best to resist the temptation, but I never escaped those desires. I was still a disgust to mankind, and I now sat before a man I had quickly become captivated by. Did I fear God or did I fear my sinful attraction to men?

"I can't say either way." I answered after what I believed was a few moments.

I don't know if it was disappointment that flashed across his face, but it was only there for a brief moment, and I wondered what that comment was about. Why had he asked me that? I didn't take him for the overly religious type. If he was, I must be in for a rude awakening.

Whatever emotion he felt in that moment was replaced with a more serene expression. "You're not one for straight answers."

"That's a bit of difficult question to answer. Do you ask everyone you first meet that, sir?" I felt strange using such a term to refer to him, but it was only a matter of my respect, as he was my elder, after all.

He shook his head. "I felt compelled. I wonder what kind of force that must have been."

I didn't understand what he meant by that, and decided not to push that conversation further. "I'm well versed in poetry."

"Is that so?" He leaned into the table again, more interested in what I had to say.

"I am." I knew it was a bit so a dull thing to say, but it could not think so well on my feet at the moment, and I wanted to stray away from my strained relationship with God.

"Then recite something"

I thought for a moment, making a reasonable decision on what to recite to him.

"When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate," I tried my best to pick something of Shakespeare's that did not imply much of love.

"Lovely," He put his head in his hand, and I almost took his gaze to reflect what I believed was my own towards him, but I knew better than to think that. "Continue."

I cleared my throat, trying my best to remember where I had left off. "Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least,"

Before I could continue, he closed his eyes began to recite from that spot. "Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising, From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate," He opened his eyes once again and stared at me for a few moments, waiting for me to finish.

I realized he left me with the final line, which I took a moment to remember. "For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

"A sonnet to the fair youth." Gakupo pushed his long hair behind his ear, exposing more of his neck. "Any attachment to that piece specifically?"

"Not to that one, particularly," I continued before I could stop myself. "Any poem to the fair youth are of interest to me."

"So you are literate." He smiled, a bit dreamy look on his face.

"So I am."

"What else are you?"

"It depends on when you ask me."

"If I ask you now?"

"I'm a poet and a swordsman."

"If I asked you yesterday?"

"I was a gentleman and a teacher." I thought to my initial meeting with my fiance's father and the time I spent with my brother.

"And Tomorrow?"

I couldn't help but smile at his questions. "You will have to ask me then."

His own smile grew wider. "Then I'll ask then. You'll tell me in the afternoon, over tea."

I wasn't sure how I had managed to receive that invitation, but I felt myself nod. I was satisfied enough to become an objected of his piqued interest, but I knew that it would not be advisable for me to gain his affection, as it would never be more than platonic, and I would be left frustrated and miserable.

We talked for a bit longer into the night, but I didn't remember much of what he said; I was too distracted in the way his mouth moved and the playfulness of his aura. I nearly couldn't stand sitting so far away from him.

He eventually stood, dismissing himself for the evening, with promises to meet tomorrow. I simply nodded in acknowledgement, but I was disheartened to see him leave, though I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he slipped back through the door into the palace.

oxXxo

A.N.: Hey, I'm really debating which Vocaloid fic I am going to give priority to, so please give me feedback if you are interested in seeing an update on this. The second chapter has already been in the works, so if you are interested in seeing it, give me some kind of feedback, like a follow, favorite, or the most helpful, a comment. Thank you so much.