Why hello thar! Back for more, I see! Well, don't worry readers-- another chapter of this "What if" is finally completed! :D So, ON WITH ZE SHOW!!!!!
Disclaimer: All characters portrayed in this chapter are under copyright of teh Tri-Noms (aka Bandai/Namco and Tri Crescendo).
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Waltz mused to himself about what he'd overheard in the dungeon. It amused him greatly that the prince was so forth-coming with all that information. Not only that, he seemed just so passionate about protecting his people. It seemed he'd misjudged the man-- he wasn't so much a coward and self-sacrificial as he was aware of his people's general need and safety.
Even still, he was a coward. A coward who deserved the hatred Waltz had for him and his people.
What a pathetic nation that they would rather retreat and compromise than defend themselves, he thought coldly, slouching deeply in the throne. The room around him was lit faintly by sunlight; however the heavy drapes and dark colors of the room sealed everything in the perpetually blood-colored dimness. The room was not as vast as the Grand Hall of Castle Baroque, but it was certainly just as staggering. Unlike Crescendo's home, however, rather than inducing awe at the crystalline beauty, it forced upon visitors a sense of dread and deep terror.
It suited Waltz's purposes well enough.
How cruel is Fate to the man that the sole prince of my greatest enemy would come willingly to my stronghold? he pondered, amused greatly at the thoughts. He knows well my methods of retrieving whatever I want from people. But I wonder-- would a White Knight be unaffected by the usual methods of torture and brainwashing? I would assume that any one of them would… but would the prince have gone through such a regimen? I doubt it would have been allowed by the Queen for her over-protective nature of her heir. Smirking, his mind traversed over the number of people whose bodies and minds he'd torn apart and pieced together within the walls of Crescendo's current residence. Oh, how'd he'd enjoyed watching them all crack-- they provided such valuable services to him over the years…
Ah, but why risk the chance that he has gone through the training? A sudden and rather different thought appeared boldly in his mind, causing the smirk to deepen into something absolutely demonic on such an angelic face. Oh… I think I know what will break that despicable prince. This should prove to be very entertaining.
((Later))
Crescendo paced up and down his cell, having counted the paces around the room over a dozen times now. All he'd heard all day were the sounds of his own footsteps echoing in the dark hallow-- no guards came for him at all, not even for meals, and Legato and Waltz were nowhere to be seen after that brief meeting earlier that afternoon. Now, the sunset dropped the cell into almost pitch darkness; the stones, he figured, were only visible due to the fact that he'd grown accustomed to the lack of light throughout the day.
It didn't make him feel any better about being here during the night. No torches, no witnesses… it simply did not bode well.
Before the eastern skies turned completely black, however, he heard footsteps tapping lightly down the stone stairwell, and his posture straightened. His training as a Knight would aid him-- much to his mother's dismay, he'd demanded to be put through everything the others had, even to a greater extent. He knew that he would be the most likely to be captured among his kin, and thusly had been trained in resisting torture along with the best of them. He only hoped he would last as long as it would take for his compatriots to arrive and take him back home. If he knew Jazz, it wouldn't take very long.
Still. Pain is pain. He just had to tough it out until the end. Provided Waltz didn't just kill him first.
A flicker of firelight accompanied a shadow down the staircase, and Crescendo braced himself for the light by glancing to the side of the stairs. He did not wish to be blinded by the torch as its bearer came into view.
Once more, the visitor was Legato, however this time he was unaccompanied. He walked to the cell, looking very much like death itself. Or, perhaps that was the prince's imagination in his apprehensive state. Either way, he was still very creepy.
"Prince Crescendo," he stated, his voice almost perverse due to its normality despite the deep shadows that made his face more unsettling. "Our apologies for your forced accommodations."
Crescendo blinked. …What?
The old man continued. "We have decided that since you are not a threat of assassination to the Count, and that you will likely not run away as honor-bound as you are, you are to stay upstairs in the main portion of the castle. As befitting, of course, of a noble guest."
This didn't settle well with the prince. Something felt wrong. But, he nodded anyway. "I appreciate the gesture, Lord Legato," he answered politely. "I accept the invitation."
"As you wish, Prince Crescendo." The elderly gentleman withdrew a wrought-iron key from the folds of his clothing and clicked it into the lock on the barred door, the metal making an eerie screech as it ground the mechanisms within. Removing the key from the lock, Legato replaced it into whatever hole he'd taken it from and pulled open the bars with another heinous shriek from the oil-deprived hinges. Holding the torch to the side, the servant stood aside, the lack of light casting even more unearthly shadows onto his face. "Please, sir, right this way."
Refusing to gulp with the horrendous implication of doom that simple phrase held, the prince strode proudly through the gateway, head held high and unafraid. He followed the old man upstairs, only their footsteps reverberating in the dark corridor. When they reached the landing and there were still no others in sight, however, Crescendo began to worry. Where is everyone? Can Waltz have been so self-assured of his victory that he would have let his guards disperse? No, even he wouldn't be that cocky. Waltz is a known paranoid. He would never allow his guards to leave if there was even the remotest possibility of retaliation.
But that still begs the question; where are the guards?
Up the stairs and through the halls they walked, the walls adorned in gold and crimson flickering in the faint glow of lanterns. Each step, the heir to the Baroquen throne steeled himself, strengthening his resolve and determination. He would not be broken.
Finally, the two ceased their expedition, stopping before a set of large double doors intricately carved with the formal seal of Forte. With one wizened hand, Legato pushed open the door, flooding their hallway with golden-white light. Squinting, Crescendo raised a hand to shield his eyes as Legato placed the torch in a bearer outside the door and stepped aside.
"Count Waltz awaits, Prince Crescendo. I do hope you enjoy your time here in Forte Castle." With a harsh yet light shove, Legato pushed him into the room and shut the doors, the clatter reverberating through the halls behind him. Crescendo, however, did not turn. His gaze remained focused on one thing only.
The smiling Count on the end of the long table before him.
"Well, well, Prince Crescendo," the blonde young man stated, smiling lazily at him. "I see you bear no hard feelings for your initial confinement." He rested himself in a lackadaisical fashion, head tilted to rest against his gloved fist, one leg crossed over the other in absolute comfort. "Come, sit," he stated, holding his other hand forth, motioning to a place set at his left hand. "Join me for dinner, won't you? You must be hungry."
The fact that he was might have quickened his step to join the younger man, but it did not hasten his journey towards being comfortable around the Count. He didn't trust him at this moment, and he doubted that he would ever do so again in the coming days. Still, he took his seat graciously after bowing to the man.
"Is there a reason you invited me to dinner, Count Waltz?" he asked plainly, deigning not to touch his plate until his "host" had. "I was under the impression that I was to be kept prisoner in this castle."
The laugh that exuded from that young man scoffed the idea, all the while perplexing the man into a more guarded frame of mind. "Now why would I do that, Crescendo?" Waltz stated, his violet eyes glinted as his mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. "You have already given me your word that you will stay until our negotiations are complete. That you are mine to do with unconditionally. Are you saying that I should be wary of a possibility of escape?"
"Not at all," the prince responded, settling back in a gesture of acquiescence. "Forgive my assumption."
The smile became a bit lazier as he tilted his head away from the man, eyelids lowering slightly as if enchanted. "Oh, there's no need," he purred lowly. "I have no worries about anything of the sort. Please, help yourself to the meal. You must be famished."
"…Thank you, Count Waltz." With a grateful nod to the man, he removed the white gloves from his hands, setting them aside as his pale hands efficiently served himself, unaware that the violet eyed man next to him was watching every movement, memorizing its pattern and flow.
The meal itself was conducted in near silence, the two men simply partaking in the food before them. Its completion, thus, was a surprise when Crescendo spoke.
"Waltz… What exactly do you plan on doing with me?"
He didn't feel too well as it was - he assumed it was anxiety getting to him. His throat dry, he took his glass of wine in hand and drank a bit. The lush sweetness of the deep burgundy (almost purple) liquid registered in his mind as whistleberry wine, one of the few reds that the Prince drank due to his rather severe lack of tolerance for alcohol. It had a full-bodied flavor, a smooth texture, and a sweetness that hid the bitter nature of the debilitating chemical hidden within. One would not expect such a fruity taste from one of the sourest berries in the world, but something in the process completely changed its flavor, leaving a polar opposite taste for those in need of a dessert treat.
He supposed he should thank Waltz for the exquisite taste he obviously had, but he was too unsettled to at the moment. His face felt flushed, and his muscles seemed tense and shaky.
"Hmm? Why do you ask?" The words dripped off the younger leader's lips like warm honey, sugary and smooth. Amber eyes locked with amethyst, intensity and enigma against each other. "Do you not trust me, Crescendo?"
The flushed heat in his face grew warmer, and the prince hastily put his cup down, responding, "No! No, of course not!" However, the speedy action cost his balance, and the cup overturned onto the table, the deep dusky liquid spilling across the redwood surface. Flustered, the prince stood, stammering apologies as he picked the chalice up quickly, replacing it upright with more care. Before he could reach for something to mop the mess up with, however, the Count's gloved hand had wrapped itself around his wrist. Before he could look up, however, the table collided with his cheek. It took a moment, but Crescendo then realized that he had been pinned face-first into the spilled liquid by the younger man with his arm bent at an uncomfortable angle behind him.
"W-Waltz?" he sputtered, trying to catch his breath and stand. The grip held firm, so he relaxed a bit. Looks like he'd just have to play along. Before he could continue speaking, the younger man's voice spoke from behind him, a low and seething purr of domination.
"Look what you've done, Crescendo. You've spilt some of my best wine."
"Y-yes… I'm sorry. I'll clean it up ri-"
The grip on his arm twisted it into a further uncomfortable position, sliding the prince against the slick table. He could feel the wetness spread across his chest as it hit the stained wood and knew that the violet liquor had seeped into his garments. He tried once more to shift, but a sudden snap and lancing pain through his thigh told him that the Count had just hit him with something. A switch, perhaps? But what would he be doing with that on his person?
"No, I will not have such a delicacy go to waste." He felt pressure against his back, then Waltz's hot breath in his ear as he whispered to him, tweaking his arm sharply. "Drink it. All of it."
Crescendo could only move his head slightly, staring at the smirking lips of the Count. He... he couldn't possibly be serious… could he? "Count Waltz?"
With a sharp and sudden motion, the prince's head was slammed back into the table, making his mind reel for a moment as the blond man behind him demanded once more, "Drink the wine, or so help me I'll kill you and end this now!"
As much as Crescendo's dignity took a beating with this order, he knew how irrational and volatile the other leader could be. Even worse, he was in a position where he'd have to break his arm to move away from him. Swallowing his pride (and the unexplainable lump in his throat), he took a slight breath and muttered quietly, "As you wish, Count Waltz." Then, slowly and deliberately, he tentatively reached out with his tongue and licked at the table, tasting the sweet wine and the bitter-sour wood polish that gave the deeply colored table its shine. His face flushed hotly, and he knew that Waltz was gaining a rather large superiority burst from this as he complied. But anything was better than death at this point - death for him meant death for his people.
After a few moments, the burnished surface of the table was free of the berry liquor, the only remaining droplets attached lovingly to the lines and planes of the Baroquen's face and hair. Saints, he could smell the alcoholic beverage everywhere - it infested his pores and he knew he must've simply reeked with the foul odor. His breath hitched slightly and he struggled to catch it, slowing down his breathing to calm his racing heart. For some reason, he simply could not quell this heated anxiety in him.
A low chuckle emanated from behind him, and suddenly his arm was released, falling to his side as the pressure lifted from his back instantaneously. "Well done, Crescendo," Waltz's voice drawled, footsteps padding away to the humiliated monarch's right. He looked up, putting his freed hand onto the wood to stabilize himself as he stared at his captor, watching his every move with a bewildered eye. He dared not wipe the twilight liquid from his face yet - who knows yet what wrath the Count would incur with that.
Surprisingly, the young man turned to him and gave him a glance over, then shook his head. "My goodness, Prince Crescendo, you certainly are a mess," he stated, his voice a parody of anything sympathetic. "Please, allow me to offer my services in cleaning you up." With a deep bow, he motioned to a door to their right, no sign of a weapon anywhere. "My personal quarters are through that door with the bath on the opposing wall. Please, make whatever use you please of them, my Prince."
Crescendo could hardly do much but stare. First imprisonment, after that dinner, then the wine spectacle… and now this? What was he up to? Was he being gracious or cruel? The heir could hardly tell at this point, but he suspected a trick somewhere within these niceties and outbursts.
But… what choice did he have but to suffer through it?
Straightening up, Crescendo returned the bow slightly, determined not to let any of the drying liquid on his face to drop to the floor. "I thank you, Count Waltz," he declared warily. The devious smile on the angelic young man's face made it all the more apparent that something was wrong here, but the soothing voice that emitted from the ruler was relaxing enough.
"No need, Prince Crescendo. After all, you are our most honored guest."
Oh yes, I am quite sure of that, Count Waltz, Crescendo mused darkly, hiding his thoughts behind a shaky smile. "Thank you again. Please, excuse me." Taking the excuse, he left the room, pulling open the single solid wood door and exiting into the adjacent quarters. Thoughts of the younger ruler occupied his mind as he made his way to the aforementioned bath hall, tugging on his collar in hopes to ease some of the suffocating heat that he could not seem to be rid of.
What is Waltz trying to do to me?
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Well readers, that's all for now! Stay tuned next time for a little more of this twisted little fanfiction! :D