Disclaimer: I do not own Infinite Undiscovery, although I would love to own that many pretty boys (seriously, nearly all the boys are pretty in this game, I was amazed).

Notes: There seriously isn't enough Infinite Undiscovery fiction out there. I've been meaning to write this for months now, and have only finally clicked on how I was going to write it. Okay, enough about that!

Chapter 1

But the Moon came slowly up in all her gentle glory

He didn't notice the darkness at first. Only Vic lighting the candle on his desk pulled Edward from his daydream, well considering the darkness nightdream would be more accurate he supposed. He blinked at the lambent glare the flame cast on the piles of paperwork covering every inch of the dark wood. Vaguely he summoned some concern at the thought of the whole lot being set alight, but then remembered that he would probably be the happier for it. He swore he actually felt Vic's stare before looking up to see it. Concern: it wasn't exactly what he was looking for.

"What is it brat?" Edward asked, the insult holding no conviction.
"Sitting here in the dark worrying about your work?" the concern disappeared so quickly that Ed couldn't tell if it had been a trick of the light in the first place, "You really are getting old, old man."
"Wandering the castle at night attending to old men?" he said back with a flippant hand gesture, "you really are turning into an old maid, old maid."

That set Vic's hackles up. Good, Ed thought, easier to deal with misplaced anger than gods be damned sympathy. He couldn't deal with that, not today.

"Huh, maid eh? I might as well be! If it wasn't for me it wouldn't be just the desk covered in stacks of paper, it would be this whole damn office! Yeah, ask the regular Joe Burguss on the street and he's all praises for King Edward, yadda yadda, they don't even know my name but without me this whole region would fall to pieces because you wouldn't be able to find your damn socks in the morning! If it wasn't for me..."
"Right, alright, I get the point," Edward groused half-heartedly, "you're the life and soul of this governmental body, we can't live without you, stop talking already."

Vic's boyish features twisted into a silent rage. Then, just as suddenly, the anger disintegrated and was replaced by a resigned expression. He threw up his hands and sighed harshly.

"You would think that I'd be used to this by now," Vic muttered, looking back to Edward before continuing, "and why the hell are you sitting here is the dark anyway? Didn't your mother ever teach you how to use matches?"
"Very funny," Edward said acidly, prying himself out of his chair and cracking his stiff joints, "you should have been a court jester."
"Now who's the comedian," Vic said sullenly, rolling his eyes, "you should go to bed, it's past eleven."

Even though it was practically pitch black Vic's revelation still took Edward by surprise. The last time he had taken any notice of the clock it had been half past seven. He had just finished reading the annual meteorological report from Doctor Zahra and her team of boffins and, thoroughly exhausted by two hours of painful science lingo, he had decided to take a break. Ed laced his fingers together and pulled his hands over his head, wincing as his joints continued to pop and crack. Some break that turned out to be.

"You're right," Ed finally acquiesced, "and so should you, aren't you getting up early for your trip?"
"Ah, I'm young," Vic smiled smugly, "I can get up early without having had seven hours of sleep, unlike some."
"Don't push it kid," Ed said in his best deadpan.

He escorted Vic back to his room since there was only one candle between them. The night duty guards snapped to attention from their leisurely positions against the wall, obviously not expecting their King to be out inspecting this late. He waved their rigid postures away, telling them to relax. He still wasn't used to the reactions people had to his presence now, it still unnerved him after a year as Ruler of Burgusstadt. It was the kind of response Lord Sigmund had always generated in anyone he met, instant respect, adoration, devotion. In a traitorous part of his mind Edward still couldn't accept that he deserved any of those things.

After all, he'd let Capell die to save them all, hadn't he?

And I'm stopping that train of thought right there, Ed thought numbly.

Bed had never felt so good. The covers were cool and fresh smelling from the night air and he wrapped himself in them gratefully. With the candle extinguished he realised that the moon must have come out as a silvery light began to creep over the bookcases, the tables and the chairs. He propped himself up on his forearm and watched through the window as the full white plate of the moon, so far away, so seemingly small and insignificant, drifted from behind a cloud. Even as the warmth he'd generated under the covers began to disappear he couldn't stop looking. The scar on his left hand, where he'd received the Lunaglyph that had nearly killed him, itched and tingled. Edward scratched it absently.

So much for not thinking about it, he thought resignedly.

He relit the candle and the moonlight faded from the room. The book was easy to find, even in the dull glow of the candle, because he'd picked it out so many times before. Ed swore that he could probably do it in the dark. Three down, fifteen along, tall, thick and black: An Account of the Heroic Deeds of The Liberator Vol. I. Eugene had begun writing it a couple of months after the liberation of the moon, he'd said it was his way of saying goodbye. Edward remembered nodding in understanding when Eugene had said it but at the same time wondering how he could ever bear to say goodbye. Edward knew he hadn't. He still had Sigmund's portrait hanging in his office, practically looking over his shoulder, watching over him. Sometimes he even spoke to it, when he knew that no-one was listening.

The book was so well used it even fell open at the correct page now. It was the chapter detailing Sigmund's first daring and heroic fight against the Dreadknight Leonid. Not that it fell open at that page because Edward had read it so many times, he didn't need to, he had been there after all. No, it was because of the picture that he kept there; he didn't know why he kept it in that chapter, it probably had no significance at all, it had just been the first page to fall open and Edward had stuffed the picture in as quickly as possible before stashing it away on his bookshelf. He hated looking at it, almost as much as he cherished it above everything else he owned. It was in pencil, just simple lines and shading, so how could it have captured the moment so perfectly? He'd known that Michelle loved to draw, she didn't hide it, but all she did was draw Sigmund whenever the chance presented itself. So imagine Edward's surprise, when resting in the Piera Marshlands before their big push to the Palace she'd pulled him aside and put this piece of parchment delicately into his hands. He would never admit it now but he'd actually blushed, not because of the content of the picture, it was actually rather innocent, but more because Michelle had said, by way of explanation, "I just thought you looked so happy together". Ed had stammered and become indignant, asking her what exactly that was supposed to mean, but she'd only smiled.

"There are few moments of happiness for the likes of us," she'd said, "I thought it was only right to capture one of them. Show it to Capell too, hmm?"

He never had. At the time he'd thought it was because it was embarrassing, but the longer he'd kept it and the more he'd thought about it, it became clear that it was because it was his alone, something he could keep of his time with Capell. Michelle hadn't told him when she'd drawn it, though he remembered the time that the picture depicted. It was their last night in Kolton before heading to Castle Valette and spirits had been low. Edward had said his piece against it but Kristopher had gone ahead and bought the case of Kolton Brandy anyway and everyone had taken a glass, even Edward after a little persuasion. He remembered saying with surprise how sweet it tasted and Aya had told him that it was flavoured with honey. Vic had thrown a strop because Aya hadn't allowed him any, but Capell had finally won over and let Vic have half a glass. Despite the alcohol, the mood had remained sombre, silent and unbearably tense until, on his third glass, Edward had looked down at an empty bottle on the floor and said (what Eugene still described as) the Immortal Line 'So, Truth or Dare?". After a moment of dead silence hysterics had ensued. Not having meant it in a humorous way Edward was confused for a whole twenty seconds before his drink addled brain caught up with the ridiculousness of his statement and he too had dissolved into laughter. Capell had ended up grasping Edwards shoulder just to stay upright and not spill his drink.

And had led to the birth of the picture. Edward wondered if Michelle had a photographic memory, because it looked like it would have been a pretty near perfect representation of the moment. Capell, mouth open in laughter, hand clutching Edwards blue jacket, staring straight at Edward who was staring back, mouth sporting a large grin and his hand holding an empty glass. There wasn't much to it, just some lines, just some shading, but it was oh so much more than that.

The candle chose that moment to go out. The moonlight flooded the room once more, casting an eerie glow over the picture now only just discernable in the darkness.

"Happy birthday," he whispered to the shadows.

Edward wiped away the stray tear on his cheek, replaced the picture in the book and the book in the bookshelf. Once the moon had been liberated it had slowly begun to drift away into the sky. There had actually been widespread panic, people thought that it might not stop, that it might just keep going on forever out into the dark sky and fade away. Then, after months of heated discussions and rushed meetings, it had stopped. No one really knew why or how, but it had stopped it's journey and now rose and fell just as the sun did, giving the world a completely new lunar pattern, one that was similar to the pattern it had before it was chained to earth but now reversed. So now, on January the twenty sixth at eleven twenty five the moon was as full and bright as it would be that month, instead of in the last stages of a lunar eclipse. The irony did not escape him. He wondered what Capell would have said, but decided not to dwell on it for too long. He had to get some sleep after all.

Despite his resolution, in the pale moons glow sleep did not come easily.

NB: The title is taken from Charles Dickens 'Barnaby Rudge'.

AN: Please review and let me know what you think. Sorry to anyone who was waiting for me to update any of my other fics but this came to me in a flash of inspiration and I had to get it down (sorry if there are any glaring mistakes, this was written quickly! Please point them out if you see any so I can correct them). Oh and I just made Capell's birthday up so if there is an official date, sorry, but I couldn't find it so I made my own!

Maiko