A / N: This scene takes place years before the events in the last chapter. Think of it as the prologue to the 2nd arc of the story. And I'm really sorry for the length of time it's taking between chapters. I have a bad habit of composing a chapter, obsessing about it, stashing it away and… and… procrastinating. But your prods and reviews help break the habit, and are much appreciated as always. : )

Chapter 9:
The Seeker, The Seer, The Renegade Prince

A young boy, a few years shy of his first decade, placed his palm against the large, heavy wood in front of him and pushed. The door refused to budge, even after he turned and used his shoulders.

"Your imperial highness!" an attendant cried when he spotted the boy's struggles. The older man was beside him immediately, lending strength to his efforts. The door groaned in protest as its hinges gave way and opened up to a wide blue sky and a spacious stone balcony. The darkness of the hall retreated as bright sunlight flooded through the hallways, bathing the marble floors with its glorious light.

The little boy stood still at first, squinting as he waited for his eyes to adjust. He heard the approaching steps of his other attendants, and, holding his hands up to shield his eyes, he stepped outside.

"My prince, wait please!" The boy's head turned at the voice, but kept his back to them. "I wish to be alone," he replied calmly as his shoulder length dark brown hair cascaded to hide half of his face. He heard the hinges of the old door creak again as the attendant withdrew his hand, letting the door slowly close on its own. They understood and obeyed; they had no choice.

As soon as he heard the door settle into place, the boy slowly sank down to the cold stone floor. He closed his eyes and leaned in his head against his knees as he breathed in the cool afternoon air. After a few moments of silence, the features of his face relaxed, and he turned his head to one side slightly, as if listening for something.

"I pity you… that's why," came a voice as smoothly as the breeze that stirred his hair. The boy sighed and opened his eyes, though he did not look up yet. He had come to expect these intrusions now, during his most private of moments. Who was it this time? What would he see? He lifted his head to see a young man sitting in front of him, his position a mirror of his own. The long strands of his white hair touched the floor, and the large crown with its set jewels glittered atop his head with the afternoon sun. Calm golden eyes regarded him closely.

It's him again… the boy thought as he regarded the older man. There was silence between them, though he could hear the city beyond the castle buzz with activity. Various sounds wafted upon the breeze and reached them; a shout of salute from a soldier, the whispered giggles of the courtiers, a passing carriage. His slowly beating heart. Through the rails of the balcony he could see the tops of the buildings beyond and the white lines of the road between earth hued buildings as they dipped and curved, wove together and separated, like water making its way to the sea beyond. All was peaceful. It was just another day in the capital of the strong empire.

And yet here he was, sitting in front of a man would could easily be just a product of his imagination; just a ghost persistently haunting his waking world.

"Not again… please…" the young boy whispered. His own eyes glinted golden in the fading light of the afternoon sun. "I don't want to see anymore…"

"This was our burden to bear," the voice came softly again, though the other man never opened his mouth. His eyes were as clear as golden steel, but his voice carried a deep sadness. His purple robes clung and floated all around him like water. His poise, even as he sat with his knees in front of him like that was perfect, as if he could easily make the floor his throne.

"Then I want to see something that makes it easier!" the boy cried out, shaking his head.

The young king lowered his golden eyes and the tiniest of smiles pulled at the edge of his bow-shaped lips. "There was… a possible future. She was the only one… but she should be stronger still." Then the calm façade of the white-haired young man broke, and he frowned, as if to cry. He swiftly turned his head to one side as his white hair closed like curtains to cover his face. "I lost her…" he said in a broken voice. "But you have a chance to make it right." He lifted his head and looked straight at the young boy with intensity in his golden eyes. "You still have a chance…" Then without warning, the young king reached out and touched the boy's forehead, right between his eyes.

Then it started. The boy's eyes dilated and his golden irises were drowned out by darker depths of his pupils. His surroundings darkened and night soon enveloped him, bringing the rain with it. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was alone again. Raindrops fell; but he never felt its cold trail on his skin. He stood up and extended his hand, attempting to catch a bead of water, but they passed through his open palm.

He felt nothing.

"Beautiful stranger…" A voice came to him from a distance, soft and gentle, like a wave making its way to shore. He looked up to see a woman with a masked face standing before his very eyes, as if she had been there all along. She continued to move her mouth, saying more but no sound came. All he could hear was a thousand furious hands clapping as raindrops fell to the ground.

He couldn't see her clearly in the faint light that filtered through the heavy rain clouds. But her cat-like eyes shone as if they had a fire of their own. She was drenched by the rain he could not feel; his eyes trailed further down to the heavy swell of her breasts, and to her extended arm, which, he realized was held by his own. They were linked tenuously; his fingers were around her insubstantial wrist, though he could not feel it. Her form reminded him of smoke; transparent and extremely elusive. How beautiful… He thought as he marveled at her slender wrist and her expressive mouth that was still moving, even if he couldn't hear her words.

What was this future? He wondered and searched her eyes for answers. This was the first time that he was seeing it. Who was she? Was she part of his future?

The vision flickered and the sounds ceased altogether. No! Not yet! He thought as he focused his will and concentrated. He wanted to see a little bit more of what this future would look like, even if it never came to pass. Perhaps if he concentrated hard enough, he might even be able to really touch her. Wasn't she freezing? The white garment of her cloth clung tightly against her skin, and there wasn't much of it to cover all of her. She was dressed like a hunter, the leathers and fur displayed to show off her kill to the world, but here under the rain, she looked no better than a lost cat.

"…love…" She finished speaking, her voice returning at the end. He may never know the entirety of what she said, but it did not matter. All he could focus on were her pleading eyes, though what she was asking for, he did not know. He looked at their joined hands. "I don't understand…" he said, hoping his voice would reach her, even across time. "Do you want me to let you go?"

She didn't answer, but he felt something tug at his heart and he knew that it was true. "And if I don't?"

She shook her head, and lowered her eyes. Her visage became thinner, as if she was going to fade with the wind. "Then you will lose me..."

"I still don't understand... But..." he stepped closer to her. "If I do as you wished, will you come to me?"

She lifted her eyes, those piercing, amber-colored eyes and looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. He felt a chill run up his spine. Such an intense regard. "It's better this way," she said as she held his gaze steadily. "Let me go."

"Why is it so hard to hold on to you?" he responded, growing frustrated. His voice sounded different now, deeper, but he was sure that it was his all the same. "Everytime I think that I have secured your place beside me, you..." She pulled her hands away.

The rain stopped, and he lifted his eyes to see that the woman's mask was gone, but her head was titled to one side, as if she was hiding her face. Now she was dry, dressed in a comfortable house robe. Her hair was braided and ran down the length of the left side of her body. She stepped away and turned her back to him, as if to hide her face, "Perhaps... it was never meant to be."

"I know..." he responded. "That's why I'm trying so hard..." He stepped forward, closer to her, and the city beyond them started to burn. He looked up, bewildered as he started to feel the heat of the flames around him. He looked at her again and saw that she was now leaning against the balcony, bright against the dark landscape as if she were on fire herself.

"Would you have understood?" There was a moment of silence as a breeze, one that he felt pass through them and lift the edges of her auburn curls. Her tattered gown swayed gently with the breeze, but there was no comfort in this short respite. She looked weary and dejected, like a bird that has lost its wings and can never again take to the skies.

But more so in this moment than anytime else, she looked breathtakingly beautiful. He could finally see all of her face, and he was certain that she was the most beautiful woman that would ever live. She was troubled, he knew, and close to being shattered into a thousand pieces. Her eyes were like embers reflecting the dying flames within herself and the turmoil of her emotions. Tears streamed down freely down her reminded him of that proverbial swan at that moment, about to let out a beautiful, haunting song before dying in the night.

"Would you… walk away?" she whispered and the breeze stopped. This was it, he thought, the last thread that will either break her or pull her back together. Everything was still, and the very world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his answer. He knew that his next words would change his life forever.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words came out, the bubble broke. It was afternoon again, the last rays of the sun surrounded him and he was back in the quiet balcony. He was disoriented and blinked slowly, struggling to find traces of the smoke that made up her form. But they were gone. And he must have been standing there for sometime because the evening chill had begun to creep in. He shivered involuntarily.

"Louis," a deep but unmistakably female voice spoke from behind him. He froze in his movements, a little startled. Then he slowly turned to acknowledge her. His mother stood in front of the door, her long black hair arranged in a chignon with strands that twirled and adored her neckline. Wine colored eyes scrutinized him almost harshly, but she took a deep breath and a flicker of concern broke through her cold exterior. How long had she been standing there?

"What are you do--," she started to say then stopped, looking closely at him. Her features evened and she took a step closer to him. "Did you… see something again?" she asked delicately.

He recovered quickly, blinking his golden eyes until only the soft brown of hazel remained. Then he glanced up at her defiantly. He now remembered the reason why he had walked out in the first place. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a frown on his face.

Something like relief showed briefly in her features, but it was quickly covered with a mysterious smile. "Does a mother need a reason to look for her son?" she replied in a lilting voice. "We have guests, Louis. Your Father wants you by his side. As the Imperial Prince you know that it is your place to…" she stopped herself and shook her head, placing her hands on her hip. "Well, I don't have to be a seer to know your answer to that. Nevermind. Why do I even bother? Come inside now. I'll take care of them myself."

There was something in the way that she spoke and held back her words that made him regard her closely. She seemed… pleased, though she tried to hide it. And there was a lingering anxiety visible in the way that she crossed her arms, one hand gripping the arm of the other too tightly. But why, he wondered, why was she agitated?

Acting on impulse was something he rarely did, but the events of that afternoon had piqued his curiosity. "What is their name...?" he asked before he fully understood his reason for asking.

She raised an eyebrow, as if such a thing was absurd. "You know that I do not care to remember." She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth.

The young boy tilted his head to one side, regarding her confusing reply. "You misunderstood me, mother. Who are they that their arrival would warrant our attention?"

At this, she smiled indulgently, but her smile did not reach her eyes. "A royal family from a Kingdom to the south," she finally said. "Again, I don't know what country. But they do have… a distant acquaintance with our line."

He found his thoughts drifting back to the words of the young king. He was gone now, though he knew that he would see him again. 'She was the only one… but she should be stronger still,' he said. Was he referring to the stranger in the rain? He closed his eyes, trying to catch an echo of her words. 'Would you… walk away?' Perhaps her words were meant for his future, the man who he would yet become. But it could also have been her question to him now.

And perhaps she was waiting for his reply, years forward in the future.

"If Father wants me, very well, I will… follow." He sighed resignedly. Did he even have a choice? This was his future after all, how could he simply walk away? Perhaps she would make his life interesting; their beginning under a storm, and their end in a city in flames. Her life would be exciting, he knew. And she was extremely beautiful. Perhaps she would be strong enough for him. Perhaps that future with her would be worth fighting for.

Luce followed his mother's steps as she stepped through the doors and into the darkness of the hallway lined with heavy curtains. He followed her blindly, content to be in her shadow until she stopped and curtseyed. He lifted his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was a young toddler perched in her mother's arms a few steps away. Dark auburn hair, which reminded him of the color of sunsets before a storm descends, was tied back with red ribbons. The curls bounced as she turned her head to him. Odd amber-colored irises of the child eyed him sleepily from her perch in her mother's arms.

In his ears, the last words of his future resounded again. You have a chance to make it right…

You still have a chance…

End Chapter 9

Much love to Tawni, for beta-reading the chapter and putting up with all the other 'etcs' that find their way into my emails. Seriously, I don't know how I'd ever finish this without her. *hugs*