Title: A Traitor Amongst The Doves

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Karneval, or anything that concerns Karneval. In no way am I affiliated with Karneval or the author, Mikanagi Touya.

Warning: Themes of murder and other mature themes later on.

A/N: First, a thanks to everyone who has supported me so far. I really appreciate your kind appraisals of my writing. Please enjoy!

A horrid heat stifled his shallow breathing. He first felt the heat. It bashed into his lungs like a merciless and blind executioner; it bludgeoned him with a dull axe. Groggily, he eventually came to. A pleasant breeze washed over him, and his will to wake up lapsed. He felt so comfortable on the too-hard board of a bed. The numbness tingled his fingers and his toes. His face had a heavy feeling to it, as if his body was magnetized to the bed, restricting his movements.

The slow movement of time was like a buffering zone. He wafted through with no sense of knowing or judgement. His mind wandered everywhere yet nowhere at all. He reached the brink of lucidity a couple of times, but each time his mind fell into the abyss of chaos and disorder. At moments, a voice called to him, but he lurched away from it; he wanted to dream meaningless things for a while longer. He grasped at strings just out of reach. Who mattered? What was he worried about exactly? Why did he care?

But a question made his eyelids flutter. How did he get there? A drowsy and wooden feeling took over him, and it suddenly made him very conscious of his surroundings and very uncomfortable. His chest was much too tight, the pressure enough to rouse him permanently from his passing dreams. The sweat began to make his clothes stick, the bedding too heavy for the climate. The sunlight began to pierce through his eyelids with a bright yellow light. Both of his arms were leaden and numb.

"Yogi..." The voice of the reason? A faraway voice called to him; he didn't recognize it at all. It spoke again: "Have you woken?"

The voice paused. No, don't leave. He threw a random guess at the voice, one which would have made the most sense to him. What happened before? Was it the day after? Gareki. Gareki was attacked. My arm- Yogi felt a sudden jolt of pain that made him crack open his eyelids.

His jaw felt locked as he snapped his mouth apart. His lips were clamped like an ancient chest rusted shut. His chest rumbled from the effort it took to summon breath. His skin felt foreign from the strange movements of the syllables.

"Ga... Reki...?" His voice was hoarse and it crackled. He tried to wet his lips but his tongue was dry as a desert. His mouth tasted like the air in a corpse's coffin. The light burned his eyes. It was noon, and a bright light showed through the patterned wooden engravings.

"I'm the Minister, Yogi. The Honorable Prince is fine. He has already recovered and has been tested thoroughly. He didn't sustain any serious injuries." He helped Yogi to a sip of water by firmly supporting his head. Yogi tried to hold himself up, but the pain before hit him now with a searing pain that had previously been lying mostly dormant. It unleashed itself now, like the flow of dammed up waters after years of retention. Yogi panted as he tried to hold back the cries under the blistering fire. He felt like someone had picked open his left shoulder area with a fork and had packed his arm with shards of glass. The minister futilely pushed him back onto the bed- Yogi wasn't even going to attempt to sit up again. He shuddered in silence.

"Yogi! You musn't move from this bed. You'll tear your wound again. When I heard that you had almost died from blood loss, I nearly fainted." His face was indeed pale, his forehead was etched with wrinkled anxiety. Yogi barely croaked out an apology when the minister shook his head. His hands shook as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Do you know what would have happened if you... Ah never mind. Mind you that the prince is well and went to meet the Emperor."

"Minister... Who was responsible?"

"Do not seek revenge so early, my son. There is still time." He smoothed out the smothering bed sheets. Yogi proceeded to squirm.

"Minister, there is no time. The prince's life is at stake now! There could be spies in the kingdom, waiting in the shadows." The Minister shook his head before he even finished.

"What are you going to do? You can't move your left arm. You're handicapped now. Besides, the royal guards will mind that problem. There is nothing to worry about."

Yogi felt his face go cold. He had shifted to the edge of the bed, with the reluctant help of the Minister after feeling pity for Yogi.

"My arm is what?" He stated dryly, looking him dead in the eye. His arm wasn't as numb as the Minister implored it to be. It felt heavy, but he could twitch some fingers without feeling too much pain. It wouldn't be damaged forever, he was sure of it. A jolt of fear hit him in the gut of his stomach.

"Your arm is temporarily immobile. What could you possibly do?" The Minister was unrelenting.

Yogi suddenly felt faint. He slowly laid back down.

"Perhaps you're right." Yogi murmured, and with a grunt, put his head back onto the hard pillow. It was an ivory box- probably a gift that someone from the royal family had given in condolence. The Minister gave a relieved sigh to his whisper and said,

"I'll have someone send you something to eat; you must be starving. Sleep, for now." He swept his robes up and left quickly, as if in a hurry.

After the food had arrived and he found that no servants were going his way, he sat back up, with quite some effort, and tried to put his robes back on. He gingerly tied his shirt over his arm and slid his other one through the sleeve. He looked silly, but he didn't give it a second thought. He shuffled out of the room and silently edged towards the prince's room. He hastily walked past the small pond and tip toed around the room. The doors were broken down and removed. There was nobody in it. The chunks of wood from the floor were removed. The bodies had been moved as well. Shards of oak still sparsely covered the rugs. He wondered where the prince was staying, if they weren't going to clean up the wood and repair the room immediately. Yogi wandered around the desks and hoped that no one would catch him. There was nothing in the room, even when he kneeled to peer at the carpet. His blood was gone. The room had returned to normal, with the exception of the doors that had been amputated from it's hinges. What had happened? He couldn't find anything. Not a hair, not a scrap of fabric. He turned and peered into the small pond. Nothing. They had dragged the men out and had already replanted the pond with pink, delicate lotuses. He entered the room again and sat on the silk bedding. He tried to come up with a list of suspects. Who, who, would want to kill Gareki in this time of peace? There were many suspects. Himself, the Minister, The Emperor, the Historian, the courtesans, Mei Li? The Minister was a prime suspect, due to his higher power and absence. The court could say that the minister used the young nobleman to lure Gareki into the room and to hinder him with alcohol. Gareki was unconscious for that latter half of the assassination because he had been knocked to the floor. Yogi stared at the sheer blue silks that hung from the royal bedding. It was untouched, just as the scattered papers were on the prince's desk.

Both men sat rigidly at the table. Gareki's dark eyes glowered without a tinge of remorse or hesitation. With a fast hand, the Emperor sipped from his oolong tea, his irritation leaking from the Emperor's usually well controlled facade. The Emperor did not glance up until Gareki planted his cup onto the table with a harsh clang. Mei Li jumped from her seat. She fanned herself with a handkerchief. The Emperor glared back at Gareki.

"Come now, today is a joyful day. We are to discuss the wedding plans." He sighed, his dark eyes intense as he eyed Gareki. The prince shifted his arm; it was crushed when he had been slammed to the ground. It wasn't broken, but bruised rather badly.

"There will be no wedding until the perpetrator is convicted, thus, I do not give my consent until he or she is found," Gareki expounded persistently, his good hand clenching.

"Nonsense. Why would you wait?" The Emperor said, scoffing with a wave of his hand.

"Everyone would be at the wedding. If assassins were to plan to invade the Kingdom on that day, it would be a massacre." He said, tapping the table to his words.

"We could have the wedding in secret. There is no need for a large celebration." Mei Li chirped, her hands tightly folded in her lap. Her ebony hair swayed, her dark eyes shined.

"We are royalty, we do not do petty things such as secret weddings. The public would think that you were some sort of peasant unqualified to be queen. Why in such a hurry anyway? I'm not going to die just yet." He shot bitterly at her. He in fact was testing her. She leaned back, mouth agape.

"What? No, that's not what I wanted at all. I wouldn't dare." She got out of her seat and kneeled, hoping that her words wouldn't get her killed. Gareki was silent. He wanted her to kneel for a while. She was the one that Gareki was suspicious of. She hadn't said a word of the event, other than a muffled condolence for Yogi, as if he had already died! She gave him the headlong stare, as if they were already equals. He almost spat at the ground in disgust. This whore!

"Please... Sit down." He murmured, lending her a hand. She blushed and glanced upwards when she took it. Her hands were cold and white, the hands of a true noble lady. He sat her down and turned back. She gave him a coy smile when he settled into his seat. Vehemently he turned to the ruler of the lands.

"Do try this plum cake. Emperor." The Emperor, disgusted by the prince's actions, waved away the mere thought of sweets. He did not have a sweet tooth. The Prince turned to Mei Li.

"Please, try one..." He said, offering her one. She looked up and shot him a persistent smile.

"Of course." She stood back up, as if forgiven by the gaffe, and delicately plucked one between two fingers. She bit into the sweet rice flour. With a smile she pointed to the dessert again.

"They are very good, please, have one as well." She was testing Gareki this time.

Gareki could afford to say no. He gave a slow shake of his head to the girl before turning his attention back to the looming figure now dark in the face. The girl hid a smirk behind her handkerchief as she sat back down, her legs now crossed under the table in vexation.

"You. Why are you so persistent in resisting marriage? The guards in the palace are plentiful."

"They are obviously poor guards if they cannot even protect one person."

"There are many guards like Yogi. In fact, if you had not been intoxicated, you probably would have put up an even better fight. The problem here may be your alcoholic addictions rather than the skill of the guards."

"Emperor. Do you not find Yogi's efforts heroic? Were his actions in vain? You are not taking the security breach into consideration here, Emperor." Gareki said. He had nothing on his plate, nor drink in his cup. It was a battle that he could not afford to slack in.

"Yogi was skilled in his protection of the Prince." Mei Li interjected, blinking in a flurry to make a point with her long lashes.

"Of course I do not think that he wasted his good effort. He nearly sacrificed his life for the prince. But who has not done so in the past? The assassins easily could have gone for me, or the Minister. It sought you, so you consequently put us in danger as well." The Emperor stated, his plate full to the brink of falling with salty meats and sauces. He did not eat from his plate at all.

"Not all men would bravely fight against thrice their number. And you talk of him in past tense. He is not yet dead," Gareki chuckled, his voice grave.

"True. If it is commemoration you want, he will have it.

"...I ask for position and respect." Gareki said. He was clawing at the walls of his heart. What if Yogi didn't actually want it?

"If respect is what you want, then he shall be my guard! Surely it is of higher standing to protect the Emperor of the High Seas than the Prince of Nothing in Particular?" He sneered, his voice edging ridicule. Mei Li quietly gasped in an attempt to side with the Prince. It was a stupid move. She should have bowed down to the higher superior. Gareki knew that he was now attempting to injure him through his weakness. He pushed the insult aside.

"Oh, if Yogi is not nearly as powerful as the Lord, then he couldn't possibly guard you. In fact, consider it benefaction for humble me to take him in as a veteran guard. Though this might injure his feelings."

"Then he shall be awarded a new ranking."

"Of course. It is up to you." Gareki replied with a venom that he reserved specially for family. He loathed the very image of his father, not because of his power, but because of his character.

"Your wedding will take place next week, Prince."

"Not until the culprit is identified." Gareki growled in agitation. He was not so concerned about the culprit. It didn't matter to him who they were but rather when he could exact his revenge. He'd sweetly call to them as he sliced off their limbs. Perhaps he'd dip them in acid first before peeling their skin off.

They had done harm to Yogi- a friend now, that was ever so close yet so far away. His heart quickened as he turned to the Emperor again. He loomed over him, standing now. His weathered and veined hand was shaking, his face trembling from anger.

"Do you fear death or change?" The Emperor roared, standing from the table and knocking a few expensive dishes in the process. The priceless gifts shattered onto the floor in a thunder, the raining glass and ceramic shocking Mei Li in such a way to gather from her a shriek. Gareki knew where the anger came from, but it seemed so fake. If the wedding was truly important, it would have taken place a long time ago. It would have taken place when they first met.

"I fear for your livelihood, Emperor," Gareki strode backwards, hands apart in mocking respect. "What would happen if something were to happen to you? Yogi is not nearly as strong. You would die a merciless death from those cruel, cruel, men," He said blatantly.

"The autopsy results will be ready at full noon. A council will be held in the West Room at that time. I trust both the honorable Mei Li and the Emperor will take interest in the safety of the palace, and for themselves." The Prince cast a steely glare to the petrified woman; she was frozen in place, clutching the table cloth in terror. He strode out of the hall with a irksome pride that made the Emperor shout with fury at the servants and Mei Li. In the distance, Gareki heard the Emperor call for some poor child to be beheaded, in the name of saving face and honor.

Gareki, after being escorted by his crew to his side of the palace, entered the scene of destruction just across from Yogi's room. The sun had just begun He entered to survey the scene once more before the meeting. He reached for the paper on the table. It was the financial plans for the following year, lying in broad daylight. The assassins were not after any documents; if they were after them, they would have claimed them before killing him. From their route of action, they would have left without grabbing any of the papers. They had entered with only one goal in mind: Kill the prince and leave no witnesses. A breeze of the wind fluttered the silk curtains in the back. The figure of someone was lying on his bed. He skillfully skirted the scene where the assassination was attempted and silently drew the sword by the mahogany shelf. The sword made almost no sound as it escaped its shell. He walked closer to the uncovered man. It was Yogi. He was sleeping on his wounded arm- stupid and careless. Blood was seeping from the bound fabrics on his wound, and he was sweating from pain. As he rolled over, Gareki noticed that he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Yogi's crystal eyes parted slightly and seemed to process that someone was standing over him. As if taken over by a demon, he was taken in a sudden spasm that rocked his body. His golden hair was disheveled, locks in his fearful face. It contorted in pain as his clutched his arm, the wound bleeding even more profusely. The blood seeped through the bandage and crawled up the parts of his robe that it had previously failed to reach.

"G-Gareki, I'm sorry- I... I passed out after getting over here." He attempted to kneel as per etiquette, but Gareki lifted him by the elbow gently back onto the bed. He silently eyed the blood. It was because of him. Chills of guilt ran through him. It gave him a familiar tug in his stomach; the plummeting feeling of desolation.

"Your wound has opened up again, Yogi. Let me treat it for you." Gareki said, voice steady but heart rapid. He could not forget the face of surprise that he made. As well as the face of pain that followed. It was almost as if his pain sourced from his presence. If he hadn't arrived, perhaps Yogi would have continued sleeping. Was dying the only escape from this harsh world? He turned to hide any emotions that might have shown on his face, be they faces of sadness or passion. With quick movements he drew strips and wine from his shelves, and brought them back. His skin was damp from sweat when he slowly peeled back the bandages. He was thankful that it hadn't been long enough for it to dry and stick to the wound; it would have meant more pain for Yogi. With an experienced hand he wadded the used bandages and discarded them. In silence he cleaned the wound. Yogi gasped and made sounds in his throat at the pain. He was gentle but firm as he held onto his arm. Yogi looked away as he cleaned it, but Gareki heard the occasional hiss. At every sound he hesitated. He wound the clean bandage around his arm, fast but sure. With his teeth he cut the end and tied it up. His face was so close- he could smell the fragrance of flowers on Yogi's skin; he had spent enough time in the palace for it to rub off on him. His breath occasionally swept him, his eyes shot him the occasional shy glance. Gareki gave him a stare that made him look away. He stood up wordlessly and turned, back towards him.

"Be careful next time."

"What of your arm?" Yogi asked, eyeing his clean and neatly done bandage. He noticed the dominant use of his left hand when aiding him.

"It is fine. It's simply bruised." He was silent as he headed towards the door. He leafed through his documents without ever actually looking at them.

Suddenly, Yogi cried out, frantic as he stood up. He had seen the sheets, and they were gruesomely smothered in his blood. It seemed like a scene of murder rather than a place of slumber. With a cringe, Gareki waved it away.

"Someone will discard it." He said, turning to the broken furniture and ripped pelts. Gareki felt powerless. He remembered the Emperor's words. If he had been here by himself, what would have happened? He would have died. Raised in luxury with the occasional training, even with talent, he would have been slaughtered and left on the floor. The stains of blood would have been his. The blood left from the assassins were already gone- if it had been his blood, that evidence would have been erased as well. He wondered if he would have been forgotten just as quickly. In the history books, all that would have been left of him would have been his name by his death date, amongst the other dead offspring that had perished at birth or as infants. His predecessor would gain fame and glory while all that was left of him would be a number and a date. Gareki walked by the pond and peered into the water. It was pristine and beautiful. The unconscious bodies of the attackers were gone, lugged out, and the flowers, oh, the flowers, were more beautiful than ever.

AN: Thanks for reading! Your support really pushes me on.