"She is dead!"

The cheers that follow the blade's falling seem to shake the very earth itself. There are parents hugging their children, husbands kissing their wives and daring suitors dropping to their knees in proposal. It is a time of peace and victory, for the tyrant Queen Sula's iron grasp on Illvondur has faded.

On the podium with the guillotine, Mette and Berwald glance at each other. "Sula's dead now, which makes you King of Illvondur." Mette nods at Sula's headless body. "So what do you say? What should we do with her?"

Berwald stared at his wife's killer, now dead herself. "Take her away."

"To be buried?"

"No. She doesn't deserve it."

Slightly shocked, she steps down and takes the basket holding Sula's head, and in her other hand picks up the body. "I'll put her down in the field next to her castle. Is that all right?"

The King nods. He does not spare a glance for the dead Queen and allows Mette to take her away.

Mette places Sula's body and her head into a patch of tall grass in the field. Before leaving, she dips her head and allows a moment of respect. Goodbye, Sula. Maybe you'll find what you want after death. Then she leaves, boots crunching on dried leaves.

The sun sets, and soon moonlight bathes the field. Within the grass, wispy smoke slowly rises from the ground, materialising into a person. She — no, he— has shoulder-length hair the colour of moonlight, eyes the colour of the midnight sky and translucent skin like frosted glass. He is, strangely, dressed in an ice-blue gown meant for a woman, with a silver crown atop his head. When he walks, the grass passes through him.

He walks, his destination unknown.

"Checkmate!"

Arthur smiles at his friend, who grins in return and captures his king. "See, Alfred? Practice does make perfect. You're doing better already."

"Ha!" Pumping a fist in the air, Alfred accidentally knocks the chessboard over. "I never thought the day would come when I'd beat you in chess."

"I'd say the same myself." Settling down in his seat, Arthur smirks a little. "It seems that even you can get smarter." Ignoring Alfred's protests, he glances at the pendulum clock on the other side of his sitting room. "It's getting late, Alfred. Perhaps you should head home."

"Woah, it's ten o'clock already?" Alfred jumps out of his seat. "I really should get going. Thanks for having me, Arthur!"

"See you soon."

After hearing the door swing shut, Arthur picks up the stray chess pieces on his tea table and scoops up his fallen chessboard. He's about to tidy up his tea cups when he hears the door bang open again.

Sighing, Arthur turns around. "What did you leave behind, Alf—"

The porcelain cup plummets to the floor, thankfully cushioned by a plush knitted carpet.

I haven't seen these sort of things in years! Gripping his tea table to steady himself, Arthur stares at the figure with wide eyes. What is that, who is that, what is that doing here?

It is translucent and humanoid. It is wearing a blue tunic that almost resembles a gown, the waistline draped with pearls and jewels. It is staring right at him.

"W-Who are you?" Arthur dares to call out. "Why are you here?"

It sighs.

"I hope that hospitality is not too much to ask for," it says. Its voice is low and quiet, decidedly male. He steps into the house. "I apologise for my entrance. Magic is the only way I can touch things now."

"You haven't answered my questions," Arthur says, still shaking. "Please tell me, or I will throw you out."

He lays eyes on the trembling man with eyes as dark as the night outside. "My name is Lukas Norsson," he replies. "I was supposed to be the Prince of Illvondur. I am here because the night is long and lonely and I would like somebody to speak to."

Arthur spares another glance for the ghost-like figure. He has the face of a boy, yet the composure of a man. Cursing fate, he decides to trust Lukas. "Very well. Take a seat, boy, and fire away. I'd like to hear something about this kingdom of three hundred years ago."

Lukas mutters something before sitting down in the armchair across from Arthur's. Without looking at the other man, he says something again, something that allows an image to appear before their eyes, not unlike a television's screen. "This was my life, Arthur. Not many people know of it, and I thank you for listening to me."

Of the winter, your highness, you are the greatest queen,
And I'm but a servant of yours who was born as your twin.
Through our fate and through pity, I'll protect you at all costs,
I shall sin, I shall err even if lives are lost.

We were born at three o'clock, the bells tolled on our first day,
Welcoming a boy and girl, or twins, so they say,
But since we were royalty, some things were set in stone,
Which is why I had to leave, leaving you all alone.

"Lukas?"

She glances at him, wine-dark eyes large and pleading. They are shining like jewels, the tears within threatening to spill over. He pats her head and forces a smile, biting back the lies. "It will be all right, Sula. I just have to leave for a little bit, and I'll be back in no time."

"Why do you have to leave?" She whines, clutching her doll to her chest. "I don't want to be all alone!"

"It's just how things are," he replies, trying to sound soothing. "You will be Queen of Illvondur one day, and I will help you do great things. Everything will turn out fine in the end." 'I am the unwanted twin, so I will go away and pretend I'm not royalty at all. You will be great, and I will be ordinary,' he adds in his head.

"You will return, no?"

His smile becomes more painful by the second. "Of course." He kisses Sula's forehead, smoothing the silvery locks for the last time. "I have to go now. See you soon, sister."

Sniffling, Sula waves with one hand as he steps into the carriage. "Goodbye, Lukas! I'll see you again one day!"

The door swings shut, and the carriage is pulled away.

"That's how my family worked," Lukas says. "Sula was always the more charming one, the prettier twin, so it was decided that she would be Queen. My parents didn't want her taken from the throne by a sibling, so they decided to disown me, to put it simply."

"That's—" Arthur tries to say, before being cut off by the ghost.

"I was renamed Lukas Steillsson and taken to a home in the village to work. But fate doesn't give up that easily, I suppose, and I never did break my promise to Sula."

If the world's your foe and it's you they despise,
If they laugh or jeer or they plan your demise,
I shall fight for you, the most loyal of your court,
So please smile, for you're the fairest of them all!

He worked for a merchant and his wife for almost ten years, before word from the Illvondur Queen started spreading around. She was looking for a servant, they said, and he pounced at the chance.

"Your Highness?"

Ruling has taken its toll on Sula. Her eyes are still dark and soulful, but with the coldness of steel in its depths. She gazes upon her minister like a lioness would do to her prey. "Yes, what is it?"

"Your new servant has arrived, Your Highness." Bowing, the minister allows a steward to escort a young man in. He has hair like moonlight and eyes like the night, skin like smooth porcelain. He looks like the Queen. "This is Lukas Steillsson."

Sula steps back, cold demeanour dropping for a split second. "Lukas… Steillsson?"

"That is I, Your Highness." The servant sweeps into a bow with movement as fluid as water. "I vow to serve at your right hand until the end of time. That is, if that is what you wish."

"It is." Rising from her throne, the Queen steps forward and takes Lukas' hand in her own. "Come with me, Lukas."

She begins crying once she enters her chambers. She holds Lukas in her arms and sobs, her tears soaking through his tunic. Lukas says nothing, only hugging her back and smiling wider than he has smiled before.

"You came back," she keeps repeating. "You came back, like you promised! Oh, my brother, we will never be separated again!"

"Fate is as wayward as the wind," Lukas replies. "And it seems that I will be doing what I was always meant to do." And suddenly, he drops to his knees, head bowed solemnly. "Queen Sula Norsdottir, I swear upon my life that I shall protect you at all costs. To me, your word is law, and that is all I will heed."

"How bold to make such a promise!" And suddenly, she is a little girl again, giggling and hugging Lukas once he gets to his feet. "It will not be hard to fulfill, though. I am Queen, after all, and no harm has ever come to me."

Lukas allows himself a smile. "Of course, Sula."

Of the winter, your highness, you are the greatest queen,
And I'm but a servant of yours who was born as your twin.
Through our fate and through pity, I'll protect you at all costs,
I shall sin, I shall err even if lives are lost.

"And that is how I reunited with my dear sister." He gestures to the moving images. "Things were peaceful for a while, but with how Sula was ruling, things were bound to change."

"Change?" Arthur echoes. "In a good way or a bad way?"

Lukas smiles bitterly. "You'll see."

Sending products to another kingdom far away,
There I met their lady, who was perfect in every way.
With blue eyes, the sweetest smile, dressed in the purest white,
She was like an angel, I fell for her when we locked eyes.

"You will be back in a few days, no?"

He dips his head, kissing Sula on the cheek. "Of course, Your Highness. All I need to do is send these papers to the Lady of Lumisa and have her sign them. Then I will be back, and you will not know that I even left."

"I hope that is the case," Sula waves her brother goodbye with one hand, the other one wringing at her skirts nervously. "Until Wednesday, then."

"I'll bring you a gift."

And with that, he hops into the awaiting carriage once again.

The doors open. The guards escort him into the throne room, where the Lady sits. A friendly smile is set upon her face and she rises, nearing him as he approaches.

He bows. "Good day, Lady Vainamoinen. I am of the kingdom of Illvondur, here to request the signing of a few contracts."

The Lady curtsies back, her snowy gown swirling about her like sea-foam. "Good day. I suppose you are here on behalf of your Queen?"

He nods, and presents the stack of papers from his bag. She smiles and takes it. "Thank you. I shall look through them and have them returned by tomorrow. Is that all right?"

Lady Vainamoinen is answered with silence, for he is enchanted by her. She has hair like sunlight, eyes like the sky and a smile as sweet and carefree as the clouds. She is beautiful.

But I know that she is the foe of my queen,
And because of that, our love can never be.
Your word is law, and the law I will heed,
But then tell me why all my tears cannot cease!

She slams a fist on her desk, with enough force that the ink-jars on it rattle. "I will not allow this!" Her breathing is erratic, her expression fiery. Her eyes are like spears, stabbing into each and every member of the court. "We are losing uncountable amounts of gold because of this."

"Your Highness, I am sure things will turn out well. There are other kingdoms we can ally with."

"What better kingdom is there to ally with than Norjon?" She paces around the room like a beast stalking its prey. "And what better kingdom for Norjon to ally with than ours? Why, then, did he choose to marry with the Lady of Lumisa, and not I? Why, then, is Lumisa receiving gold that should be ours?"

The court remains silent. Lukas, sitting beside his sister, remains soundless. He has never seen his twin so enraged before.

"Lumisa must be dealt with!" She whirls to face her court. "I want the kingdom razed. I want Tille Vainamoinen dead. Are there any objections?"

Nobody dares to speak.

"Good," she continues. "I will send the army to Lumisa tomorrow, but I want the Lady gone before even that. Who is to kill her?"

And Lukas stands up. All eyes are on him as he speaks. "I will, Your Highness. I will get rid of Lady Vainamoinen for you."

He rides to Lumisa on his fastest horse, arriving at the castle before sunset. He manages to sneak into the castle before anybody notices him. An inquiry to a young busboy tells him that Lady Vainamoinen is in her gardens.

He approaches her, watching as she turns with a smile. "Oh, hello there. May I help you?"

Dread fills him, and he struggles to speak. "Tille, I'm sorry."

The confusion in her eyes turns to shock when he unsheathes his dagger, rushes forward and drives the blade into her heart. "O-On Queen Sula of Illvondur's orders, I must sentence you to death. I'm sorry, Tille."

Tille smiles through her pain, gazing up at his face. "I forgive you." Then, leaning forward with all her strength, she presses her lips to his forehead.

And then she slumps down.

Of the winter, your highness, you are the greatest queen,
And I'm but a servant of yours who was born as your twin.
Through our fate and through madness, I'll serve you at all costs,
For your treat this fine day, I have chosen brioche.

"Sula always had a sweet tooth, like me," Lukas says, discreetly wiping his eyes. "One of her favourite desserts was brioche, her favourite sweets liquorice. I loved serving them to her, for she'd smile brighter than the sun when being given them."

Arthur smiles a little at that. "She was still a little kid, despite being the Queen, huh? Some things really don't change."

I am sure that in mere days this kingdom will be no more,
Taken by a group of rebels knocking at our doors,
"For the freedom of this kingdom", they staged this revolt,
But you won't succumb to them, none of this is your fault!

King Berwald of Norjon is accompanied by a villager armoured in red. They are leading a mob of Illvondur's people and Lumisa's survivors. All that is approaching, like a human storm, towards the castle.

They have destroyed the gates, battered the tired soldiers, swarmed into the castle like hornets. Lukas has locked the door to her chambers, but she knows all too well that they'll break in soon.

Here are spare clothes of mine and I hope that they fit.
Won't you put them on and run? Don't forget to be swift!
We are twins, you'll be fine, they can't tell you from me,
So please run, my dear, please just do it for me!

He makes the decision in a heartbeat. Digging out a spare shirt and pair of pants, he kicks his boots off and hands it all to Sula. "Put them on."

Sula looks at him, frantic eyes now questioning.

"I will put on a gown of yours and wear your crown on my head," he says. "I will pretend to be you, and you will pretend to be me. You will run, and I will not let these people hurt you."

"You can't!" She hastily pushes the clothing back to him. "I will not let you die!"

"I'll be all right!" He has taken some of Sula's clothing now, rapidly changing into them. The rebels' voices near. "Everything will be all right. Please, Sula."

"On one!" Screams the leader, outside her chambers.

Trembling, Sula pulls on his clothes and boots.

"Five!"

He tosses her a hooded cloak. "Wear this. It will hide your face, so nobody will know you're you."

"Four!"

She slips the clock on, choking back tears.

"Three!"

He pulls Sula into a tight embrace. "The time has come. Stay safe, my sister."

"Two!"

He kisses the top of Sula's head. "Goodbye."

"One!"

The doors burst open with a mighty slam. He releases his hold on Sula and pushes her away. "Go!"

She flees, not looking back as the rebel masses descend upon her brother.

Of the winter, no longer are you the greatest queen,
For I stand in your place while you play the escapee,
Through our fate and through sadness, I'll save you at all costs,
Now that I'm "evil" like you, not all hope has been lost.

"I let the rebels take me." His voice is hollow. "Mette was the name of the leader, and she brought me to the dungeons. I was to be executed the next day, when I turned fifteen."

Lukas' host does not reply. He is frozen in his seat, the shock of this ghost's story holding him like a vice.

Many, many years ago, encased within the ice,
Was a ruthless kingdom borne of misery and vice,
At the very top and in her frigid, freezing reign,
Sat my sweet little twin who was fourteen years of age!

The little sunlight leaking in from the window of his cell makes him think of Sula, of when they were young and innocent and playing outdoors. He prays that she is far away from Illvondur now, and living a peaceful life as anything but the Queen. She will not see him die, and perhaps she will live thinking that he got away.

If the world's your foe and it's you they despise,
(And the bells will toll and swing next to the guillotine,)

The tolling of the bells makes him think of Sula during teatime. They would share a small basket of liquorice, laughing and sharing jokes like they did long before. All this is forgotten when he hears the clacking of boots nearby.

Mette opens the door of his cell, holding rope in her hands. "It's time to go."

His hands are tied behind his back, and the blonde leads him out into the light. He does not speak.

If they laugh or jeer or they plan your demise,
(Poised above my kin with its gaping maw of steel,)

The people are shouting. Some are jeering. Some are throwing stones, all of them deftly deflected by the Norjon King. Mette pushes him to his knees and places his head into the guillotine. She apologises. He does not speak.

I shall fight for you, the most loyal of your court,
(And uncaring still, your gaze is cast up high,)

The blade screeches as Mette draws it up high. His eyes scan over the crowd. They do not show sympathy, except for somebody at the very front.

Her face is mostly hidden by a hooded cloak, but the shining eyes are familiar. She is crying, but notices when he tries to make eye contact with her.

Sula tries to smile, and he smiles back. He still does not speak.

So please smile, for you're the fairest of them all!
(And in your final moment, you say my favourite line!)

The blade falls with a deafening whistle, and he shouts the line that once delighted Sula.

Then the blade cuts into his neck and he sees no more.

Of the winter, your highness, you are the greatest queen,
And I'm but a servant of yours who was born as your twin.
Through our fate and through pity, I'll protect you at all costs,
I shall sin, I shall err even if lives are lost.

"I died as Sula, wearing her clothing and saying her words. I don't regret any of it." Lukas' eyes stare unseeing. He is obviously lost in thought. "I became like this a few hours after my death. At some point, a kind woman changed my clothes and buried me."

If one day I'm reborn and us two will meet again,
I would like to play with you, so let's wait until then.

"What happened to Sula?" Arthur asks quietly.

"That is the reason why I am like this now — I don't know." Lukas rises from his seat, floating around Arthur's sitting room. "I don't think I will ever rest in peace until I know. I met a lot of people after death. I saw Tille again, I saw some of the people Sula executed, but I never saw her, and I'm still searching."

"Well, erm, I hope you find Sula one day." Arthur says awkwardly. "And, uh, thank you for telling me your story. It was very interesting indeed."

"And thank you for listening." Slowly, Lukas drifts towards the door. "Not many people listen to the whispers of the dead. Those who do are often called madmen, or forget me within a day." The door swings open with a gust of wind. "I hope you are not one of those people."

"I'll remember," Arthur smiles at the ghost. "Goodbye, Lukas. Maybe we'll see each other again one day."

"Until next time." He glides out of the house, the door closing behind him. Lukas Norsson, rightful Prince of Illvondur, disappears into the night.


A/N: Lukas is based on Alexiel from the original series. Saga Ills is based on the Daughter of Evil (Aku no Musume) and the Servant of Evil (Aku no Meshitsukai), a series of Vocaloid songs composed by mothy or akuno-P and performed by Kagamine Rin and Len. The English lyrics of the song were written by me.