A/N: Sorry for the very, very, VERY late chapter, folks! Between falling face-first into another fandom, a new puppy, and life being its usual hectic self, I've just fallen behind on all my updating/writing. I'm still planning to get this and Masquerade finished, but it's taking its sweet time at the moment. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter warnings: manipulation & mind control.

ooOoo

Chapter 15: Darkness

Up in the palace, a lonely queen stood atop a balcony and watched the sky turn gold with the lanterns' glow. The crimson ribbons that had kept her lantern moored now lay tired and forgotten, and the excited energy of the crowds had failed to permeate up to the palace. Instead, a soft grief lingered on the balcony as another year went by and still the queen was alone.

ooOoo

His brother.

His brother stood on the shoreline just off from Briar Rose Cottage – from Baron's haven – and watched.

A shiver ran through Baron's lungs and he pulled away from Haru. It had been enough years since their last encounter that Baron had almost convinced himself that he had forgotten his brother's face, but all such illusion was ripped away in that moment. For even in the low gleam of the festival lights, even far across the lake there was no mistaking that suit, sharp and dark, nor the stance or the face that mirrored his in so many ways.

"Baron?"

He tore his attention back to Haru, and knew with gut-wrenching surety that the magic of the festival had broken. He straightened, feeling his brother's calculating gaze drink it all in.

There was a reason. There had to be a reason his brother had tracked him down after all this time. A heist he needed him for, a two-man job he could be roped into, a…

His eyes flickered, traitorously, to the satchel.

A crown.

"Baron? You're starting to scare me."

Naturally. It made sense.

"Haru, I need you to trust me." His hands found hers again, but this time there was a desperation to the grip. "I have a… There's something I need to do."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Yes, now. His brother's appearance was a warning, not an invitation. I've found you once, it was saying. Meet me on your own terms before I meet you on mine.

If he did this right, he could deal with his brother without ever exposing Haru to him.

Haru would probably be disappointed, maybe angry at the loss of the crown – especially after the bargain she had struck with Toto to ensure his ongoing freedom – but that was a price he was willing to pay. It was better than the alternative.

It would be worth it.

For Haru.

Haru, who now looked at him with the first glimmer of real fear. Then she returned the grip. Nodded. "Okay then," she agreed. "Now."

Baron could only spare the faintest of reassuring smiles before his mind became preoccupied again with the ensuing family reunion.

His brother must have heard of the crown heist and return to claim what he saw as his rightful share as family, regardless of his non-involvement thus far. It was just the kind of stunt he would pull. The kind of self-righteous arrogance he possessed.

And maybe, just maybe, if Baron played his cards right, maybe he could pay off whatever delusions of fraternal debt Auberon thought he was owed.

The boat breached the sandy shores and Baron hauled himself out. As he had expected, his brother had disappeared into the forest's shadow, but Baron could guess where he had retreated to. His brother, like him, had always had a bad flair for the dramatic. Baron leant into the boat and, with a wave of guild, collected up the satchel.

Haru's gaze flickered between him and that weighted satchel, hurt confusion already beginning to brew behind her eyes.

"Baron, what–?"

"I'll be back," he said, and he hoped time wouldn't make a liar out of him. "I promise. There's just something I need to sort out first."

If you tell her about your brother, she'll want to help, a voice wavered in the back of his mind. She'll meet him and she'll realise what a mistake she's making in trusting you. Or, worse, you'll make a mistake and Auberon will realise how much she matters to you.

How easily he can use that against you.

He lingered at the boat, fingers curling so tightly around the rim that the wood began to splinter. Words grew and died on his tongue before ever gracing his lips and there was the faint bitterness that this was not how it was meant to go.

He leant towards Haru, wanting to offer more reassurances, but all-too-aware that his brother could be watching, all-too-quick to judge for any potential weaknesses.

An irrational, emotional part of him was suddenly overcome with the urge to finish the kiss they had neared upon earlier but he pushed it aside.

"Stay here," he whispered. "Please."

She closed the gap instead, a fleeting kiss passing his lips. When she broke away, she was red. Blushing. But sure, too. "Then make sure you come back," she replied.

Against all survival instinct, he grinned. "Cross my heart."

The smile faded as he now entered the forest's depths and into the cottage, the satchel weighing heavily by his side. The remnant happiness died entirely as his brother stepped into the moonlight filtering through the dusty windows. In his hands, he was turning over a piece from their grandmother's fine china set.

"I see you've been keeping this place in working order," Auberon remarked. "How despicably sentimental," he sneered, and dropped the plate.

Baron flinched, but gave no other response. "Auberon," he greeted neutrally. "It's been a long time since our paths last crossed. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Auberon picked up another piece from the china set – a delicately shaped bowl, with autumn vines decorated into the porcelain – and made a show of examining it. "I hear you've been holding out on me, Humbert."

Baron held his ground, even as his stomach plummeted. He attempted the cocky smile he had perfected during the years he had run alongside his brother. "Oh, so I see how it is. You hear I've got my hands on something good, and suddenly you want in." He shrugged and tossed the satchel at Auberon's feet. "Well, I'm feeling generous, so how about you take that gaudy little trinket, call it quits, and neither one of us has to see the other again? Personally, I feel like a top hat fits me better anyway, but you – you could pull off a crown, I'm sure–"

"You think I'm interested in a crown?" Auberon stepped over the satchel. "How very typical, brother, to keep the best finds all to yourself."

Baron did step back then. His foot knocked into something. A cat? He glanced down as the grey feline skulked away, and now he noted the multiple feline shadows prowling in the corners of the cottage. "Auberon," he hissed, "what's going on?"

"A wrong is finally being righted," Auberon growled. "That's what's going on."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand, Humbert, just do as I say."

Baron allowed a low snort. "We're brothers. When have I ever listened to you?"

"Since now." Auberon raised a hand and a bejewelled ring shone in the flickering candlelight. "Humbert von Gikkingen, your name belongs to me now."

The air shifted, hollowed; his lungs were suddenly numb, each breath going unmarked. Something clicked, everything moved an inch to the left, and all he was left with was the innate knowledge that something vital had been taken from him.

His name.

What was his name?

The inside of his mouth tasted coppery. Name. He had a name. The name his mother had murmured as she lulled him to sleep; that his father had called when his mother had left; that he had entrusted in Haru's care in the flooded cave… and now it was gone.

"You can keep the Baron part," Auberon added. "It was never truly yours anyway."

The world clicked back into place. Baron. His identity wrapped itself around that singular word; his identity and… something else. Something he would only come to know later as free will.

He ground his teeth, recognising the spell that held him, even if he had never seen it in person. "You would use name magic on your own brother?" he snarled.

"If you acted like a brother, I wouldn't have needed to," Auberon replied.

"I left because you wouldn't listen to me, because you were hurting people and I couldn't make you see that was more important than whatever debt you felt the world owed you–"

"Oh hush," Auberon scolded.

Baron's mouth snapped shut. His tongue forgot how to form words.

Auberon looked delighted at the development, rounding on his brother with satisfaction. "You know, I think I like you better this way. Far less…" he motioned vaguely, "preachy."

Baron managed a low growl before that too was taken from him.

"Still," Auberon mused, "we're not quite done here." He waved a hand, and the silencing seal dissolved.

Baron scowled, but did not move. He wasn't sure if that was because he knew he had no chance of succeeding before the name magic bound him, or if Auberon was manipulating him now. "If the crown is not what you seek, then why bring me here? What more do you want? Do you wish to bind me to your will so I will work alongside you and we can relive the glory days once more?"

Auberon chuckled. "How predictably self-centred." He rolled his eyes. "No, I want something far more valuable than a crown. Something a king has searched nearly two decades now for."

"The King is dead," Baron said.

"There is more than one king in all the worlds. The Cat King, for example."

Baron scoffed, feigning amusement he did not feel. At least that explained the surplus of cats. That just left the minor issue that his brother had spent what was left of his marbles on the apparent delusion that he was in liege with a fictional feline monarch. "There's no such thing as the Cat King."

"Oh, there is."

"Some talking cat has been leading you on a merry chase, but fine. I'll bite. What does this Cat King want that's worth so much more than a crown?" He found a grin. "Two crowns, maybe? Perhaps an island made of gold. Or a star plucked from the sky."

"How about a girl with magic healing hair?"

Baron's blood ran cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. Now, why don't you bring your lovely companion and I can introduce myself?"

"I won't."

Auberon smiled, as if happy with this contradictory answer. "You don't have a choice."

Baron's legs moved, turning him towards the door. There was a disconnection from head to hand as his fingers curled around the handle. His movements were sure and steady; only his heart jumped like a jackrabbit. "I won't let you do this," he whispered.

"Yes, you will."

And that was the last time Baron had control over his words.

ooOoo

"Baron? You're back!"

Silhouetted by the darkening sky, now dimming as the lanterns faded into the distance, Haru lingered by the moored boat, the relief in her form betraying the fear he had installed into her. She hesitantly stepped away from the boat, as if it had been anchoring her until now. "I thought... well," she said, a blush rising to her cheeks, "I was beginning to worry you'd ran off with the crown and left me."

Baron smiled, but it didn't feel right. He offered a hand. "And abandon such a lovely lady? I think not."

Her blush took on a more flattered hue, but it didn't dispel the visible nerves. Could she tell that the words he spoke were not his? Did she see the way his smile was cocky and sure, a thing of shallow emotion? Would it be enough for her to distrust him?

She took the hand. "Did you get things sorted?"

"Nearly," he found himself saying. "There's just someone I need you to meet." He led her into the forest and to the cottage door. In the intervening time, Auberon had lit the few working lanterns and now the cottage took on a picturesque, quaint atmosphere.

In the light, Baron could also see the many cats that prowled in the corners.

His hands shepherded Haru through the opening, his body taking guard at the entrance like a tin soldier. Haru faltered, stepping back into him, but his hands were under Auberon's control and he couldn't move to steady her.

"What… What's going on?"

Auberon bowed, sweeping off the dark top hat in a well-practiced gesture. "Miss Haru. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Haru stilled. By the way her form stiffened, Baron guessed her eyes were roaming over the form that held so much in common with his, from the angle of his cheekbones, to the build of his body, to the smile that had echoes of Baron's teasing smirk.

"You're Baron's brother. You're…"

"Auberon von Gikkingen. At your service."

Haru glanced back at Baron before snapping her attention back to Auberon, too unnerved to let the latter out of her sight for more than a second. "I don't understand. What…?"

"What is there to not understand?" he asked. "My brother and I have been working alongside each other all this time to get you to where you need to be. Or did you think it was purely coincidental that he just happened to trip into your tower?"

Haru began to speak, but then hesitated. Doubt crept into her bearing.

Auberon approached, drawing an arm around Haru's shoulder and trying to prompt her away from Baron. She shrugged him off sharply, but didn't return back to Baron's side.

"No," she muttered. "This is a… a trick. It has to be." She glanced back once more to Baron, and the doubt only intensified when Baron was unable to respond. He felt the expression in his eyes turn cold and impersonal. "Baron would never… He wouldn't harm me."

"And who said anything about harming you?" Auberon crooned. "No, all we want is to help."

"Help?" Haru echoed. "Help how?"

"Did you never wonder why your hair had healing powers?"

"Of course, but no one knew."

"Your mother did," Auberon replied.

"No, she couldn't have–"

"Your mother is the reason you're in this mess," he interjected, a rare streak of anger bleeding into the word mother. "Let me tell you a story, Miss Haru. Once upon a time there was a mother-to-be who got very sick and very scared, and her husband knew the only way to save her was to find a magical healing flower from the Cat Kingdom. When the Cat King caught the human stealing his flower, he was rightfully angry, but he showed mercy. He agreed to let the man go as long as he returned the flower afterwards."

Auberon rounded the room, taking a seat on a tired old armchair with indulgent possession. It didn't fit. He looked too sharp, too cleanly-cut for the soft cottage colours.

"However, when the baby was born," he continued, "it became clear that the flower's powers had transferred from the flower to the child. And so, when the Cat King came to collect his payment, the mother and father refused, hiding their daughter away even as the Cat King tried to help."

"Help?" Haru repeated again. "That sounds more like kidnapping to me."

Auberon gave a wry smile. "Tell me, Haru, how has your mother been recently? Has she been well?"

She faltered. "She's…"

"Or has she been getting sick over the years?" Auberon gave a carefully-crafted smile, one that, had Baron not known better, would have mistaken for genuine care. "Pale, shaky… somehow less?"

"Do you know why she's ill?" Haru asked, the question dangerously desperate. "Can you make her better? I try, but it never lasts, and she always seems worse when it returns–"

Auberon laughed. "Of course it doesn't work," he said. "You can't treat poison with more poison."

"What?"

His gaze fixed upon Haru. "You," he said. "You're the cause."

"Me?" Haru whispered. "How–"

"Not you personally, but your hair is. Your magic is."

"But it heals–"

"And have you never stopped to wonder how it works? Do you really think a miracle magic like yours can just exist without consequence? Without cost? Back in the Cat Kingdom, the magic flower feeds on the eternal summer light of the sun. But here, in the human realm? It has to outsource to other places of sustenance. It has to feed off the life force of those around it."

"No, I–"

"Even if you never use your magic again, it will still draw life from those closest to you. Only you and cats are immune to its effects." Auberon smiled. "But come to the Cat Kingdom, and it will feed once more on the sun. If you come, it will never harm another living being."

Haru glanced nervously to the outstretched hand and then to Baron – no, beyond him. To the open door, where the night sky was still rosy with the fading lanterns. "But I… I had so many places still to see," she whispered.

"And you will," Auberon promised – lied – "for there's a whole world to explore in the Cat Kingdom. And the Cat King can open up portals to any part of this realm; you can see everything you've ever dreamed, and more."

Don't, Baron wanted to shout. Don't do it, don't trust him–

But of course he didn't. Auberon was keeping a tight rein on his tongue, and he could no sooner have spoken than recite the full contents of the palace library.

"Everything I've ever dreamed of…" Haru murmured.

"Yes. And with your magic no longer draining her, your mother will recover." Auberon's eyes glittered, but Haru did not seem to see the malice. "In fact, she's already there, being tended to by the very best physicians and preparing for the welcome ceremony."

"There's a welcome ceremony?"

"Naturally. The Cat Kingdom has awaited your arrival for years. Finally, the return of their flower. You are to be treated like royalty."

Like a prized pet, Baron's mind supplied. A caged nightingale.

He almost didn't notice Haru turning her gaze onto him. "And Baron?" she asked. "Will you come too?"

Yes.

"No."

I will go wherever you go.

"I'm staying." Disdain rippled through him, foreign and taut and acrid. He felt the emotion crawl onto his face, into the crinkle of his eyes, the turn of his lips, the shift of his shoulders, all as horror bubbled, unseen, in his lungs. His hand tightened around the satchel and secured it over his shoulder. He patted the crown within. "I have my compensation. I'm done here."

His feet turned with sure, solid steps that were at harsh odds with the sickness that rose within him. A pain had gripped his heart, a pain that should have rendered him to his knees, but his feet kept going. They only halted when a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Baron, what–"

"It was just a job, Haru." He felt a condescending smile twist into place along his lips. Hands that were not his hands and yet were firmly peeled Haru's grip free. "I'm a thief; what did you expect?"

She faltered then. Reluctant understanding crawled across her face. "I thought…"

"You thought what?" Baron echoed. The words dripped from his mouth, beyond his control and yet still dripping, intently crafted. "That we would run off into the sunset together chasing adventures? Grow up. We barely know each other, and you think I would change anything for you? Sorry, Haru, but I've got what I wanted. I suggest you decide what it is you want."

He saw the tears rise, and then blinked rapidly away. She bit her lip with the visible resolve not to cry before him.

Her hand loosened, and then slipped away. "My mistake," she whispered.

Baron's tongue was done; he had no more words that Auberon had allotted, and so his legs took over once more, turning him away from Haru, away from his brother, and towards the door. From the corner of his eye, he could momentarily see Auberon sweep in with an arm around Haru's shoulder, already quick to the reassurances.

She didn't shrug him off this time.

The door swung shut behind him, and he wanted to scream. He wanted his numb limbs to give way and collapse to the ground. He wanted to barge right back in there and undo every cruel, callous word Auberon had spoken through him.

But he didn't do any of that.

Instead, he was hit with the sudden, overpowering urge to march up to the palace and hand himself in, crown and all.

No loose ends.