Okay, so, I got the idea for this in August. I meant to have this published last week, but got behind doing other stuff. This is out of the ordinary, even for me.

So as you can see from the summary, this is an AU, where 9 is a prince, and lives in a stitchpunk-inhabited city. Humans are a thing of a distant past. I think there are some humans, but live apart from the stitchpunks. Hey, this was all a sugar-induced dream.

Any stitchpunk mentioned are all OCs I made up to be part of the story. The main cast do show up over time as the story unravels. I just know I am in way over my head.

Yes, the pairing in it will be 1x9 mainly. Other couples will appear, too. There will be eventual 7x8, although I can't promise anything with the others. *giggles nervously*

Well, enjoy my newest 9 fic. ^_^

The view of the balcony overlooked the city in its grand glory. The skyline is sprinkled in unique skyscrapers and their history seemed to shine more than ever. Parks and gardens are flourishing in the kingdom of Numerus and it has attracted a lot of attention. Countless cultures have left their mark not just on the city's development, but also upon the city's identity.

Beyond the city, vast forests surrounded the splendid and potent kingdom. Its allure is matched by the backdrop of lush fields of grass which have helped shape the city to what it is today. The climate these fields brought were of great importance, but they were also influential when it came to architectural designs as the vast majority of buildings incorporate grass as part of their architecture in order to continue the lushious aesthetic of the fields around them.

9, the Crown Prince of Numerus, stepped out, looking on at the majestic kingdom. The morning sun rose high in the sky, not a cloud in the sky. He breathed out a sigh, a wistful yet hopeful look on his face. It seemed like nothing could bring him out of this melancholy. Turning around, he walked back into his room, taking note of his surroundings. His grand gold bed was across from them balcony. It was decorated in red sheets, the pillows were also clad in the same red fabric. The elaborate canopy has double red swags with tiny braid.

The walls were painted ivory with the floors being marble. In one corner of the room a vanity took up half the place. In the other corner was the wardrobe, inside it a collection of capes and coats, robes and other such ensembles. Turning to the vanity, his gaze locked on the gold crown laid atop a small velvet cushion. Picking it up, he looked at it for a moment before placing it on his head. 9 looked at himself in the mirror. With his pale gray cape cladding his body, the crown completed the look. He was every bit a prince should be.

A knock on the door broke his ruminating.

"Come in," said 9, turning around.

The door swung open. It was 2, the King of Numerus. His father. He entered the room decked in a garnet-colored robe held in place with a ruby cradled in gold. He wore a crown of his own, but unlike 9's, it was more elaborate with bigger spindles. 2 greeted him with a warm smile that the young stitchpunk returned.

"Good morning, 9," said 2, strolling up to him.

"Good morning, father," replied 9.

2 stood beside his son, peeking at the mirror briefly before looking back at the young prince.

"You look stunning," he said.

"Thank you."

"You know what today is?"

"Yes," said 9. There was a hint of dread in his voice, though he wouldn't let it show. A count was coming to the kingdom. 9 usually didn't like the visits from the merchants and dukes. Not that he was shy, but it was because he found it all to be suffocating. He'd do anything to get out of today's visit.

"Come along," said 2, "we don't want to keep him waiting."

9 nodded. "Of course."

He followed his father out in it the corridor. The halls were stark white with long red carpets sprawled on the floors. The sound of his and 2's feet echoed in the hall, being the only sound 9 heard. He was on edge, but he hoped sitting through this visit would be over and done with.

Walking down the grand imperial staircase, 9 saw the grand double doors, where two guards stood, spears at the ready. He recognized the guard on the right. 8. He'd known 8 for years, and the guard would always offer to listen to whatever 9 had to say when he was feeling lonely.

"Who are we meeting?," asked 9.

"He's a count from the kingdom of Turris Eburnea," said 2.

"What is the purpose of his visit?," whispered 9 back, reaching the bottom step.

"He's here to form an alliance with our kingdom," answered 2, gingerly stepping down from the stairs.

9 nodded. "I see."

8 and the second guard opened the grand doors. 9 braced himself.

In came a stitchpunk who looked a smidgen taller than him. A tall crown rested atop his head while a deep red cape covered most of his shoulders, draping along on the floor. Buckles cladded his torso, both nearly buckled. He held a staff with a crescent blade; a small bell dangled from the blade. His slanted pupils accented his high cheekbones while the stitching on his face made him look all the more attractive. Those slanted pupils gazed at his surroundings, acting in a manner as though he were the only one in the hall. His optics landed on 2 and 9. This was their cue.

2 approached the visitor with 9 walking by his side.

"Greetings, Count 1," said 2, bowing.

"Good day to you, Your Majesty," said 1, dipping into a bow. When he straightened, his optics spotted 9, remembering the protocol. "Your Highness."

9 bowed back neutrally.

"We are so glad to have your visit, Count," said 2, standing up straight.

"Quite," said 1, the Count.

9 looked from 2 to the Count and back again. He kept a straight face as his father announced the day's events. While 9 listened, he followed, hoping to get through this meeting as quickly as possible to escape this dull company.

The double doors to the cabinet opened. 9 drifted out, his head still swimming from today's meeting. His father, 2, trailed behind after him in a steady pace. 1, their visitor, was the last to leave the room, his slanted optics looking at the walls and the floors, staff held at his side.

2 spotted a female a stitchpunk—a maid—about to leave the hall when he called over. The stitchpunk hurried over, bowing politely.

"Yes, Your Majesty?," she said, not meeting 2's optics.

"Take the Count to his room," he said, "he'll be taking the guest suite in the south wing."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the stitchpunk maid. Turning to look at 1, she said, "Come right this way, Your Grace."

1 nodded, and followed the stitchpunk maid down the hall.

When he saw them make a turn, 9 looked at 2, asking, "How long will he be staying?"

"A few days," said 2, "he was marveled by our kingdom, that he wants what he's allying to."

"Hmm." 9 nodded.

2 walked down the hall in the same direction the maid and 1 went. 9 followed.

"Why don't you show him around the kingdom?," asked 2, which sounded like a suggestion.

"Wha—Me?," sputtered 9, blinking his optics. "Why not have one of the guards to escort him?"

"That would be the idea," reiterated 2, "but I was thinking you'd show him around, have a day off away from this posh routine."

9 looked away. He had been spending for entire meeting waiting for it to be over as to spend less time with 1 as possible. Seeing how this was something he couldn't hey out of, 9 begrudgingly complied, saying, "Very well, I'll do as you say and show the count. And I guess I could use a break."

2 gave a smile. "You'll enjoy showing him around."

"Right," said 9, "I suppose."

He walked down the hall, mind still focused on today's meeting and how the rest of the day would pan out.

9 was used to the attention now and then, but it all became suffocating. He walked with the count and with them was a bodyguard escorting them. The bodyguard was 8, which made the walk less hard to handle. This way, he didn't have to feel like putting on a font. Everywhere he went, he gartered stares from stitchpunks, male and female, child and adult, alike. It was more evident with the visiting count from Turris Eburnea. The neighboring kingdom was said to be as resplendent as Numerus. 9 had never been to Turris Eburnea before, but then again, he'd never been to a lot of places before. He'd traveled with his father a few times over the years for diplomatic missions, and it seemed the time he spent at the palace, the more he yearned to see outside the kingdom.

"Your kingdom is beautiful," commented 1, gazing at the kingdom's scenery.

The street they walked on was moderately crowded with the occasional bow or curtsy from the ever-present stitchpunks. 9 did his best at being approachable in the presence of a hulking bodyguard, but it couldn't be helped. He hoped 1 was enjoying himself despite the daunted but admiring stares they received.

"You know," said 9, "there's a park where they do theater work. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd be delighted," answered 1.

9, along with the bodyguard 8, sauntered down the next street, hoping for the day to end on a good note.

"It's right over here," said 9 as to be precise. 1 nodded, keeping a smile painted on.

The three threaded through the crowds, which parted upon seeing the presence of the prince. Walking down the street was less of a struggle with everyone clearing the way. It was something 9 was used to but wished wasn't necessary.

They passed a series of shops, whose names 9 didn't bother to read. The street curved in this direction, something he didn't mind but was still a bore to the prince.

"There must be a show on today," said 9, optics gazing from the quaint houses to the blue sky above.

The entrance to the park came into view after a group of stitchpunks passed by. He and 1, along with 8, strode through the street with stitchpunks parting away. 9 had to try and not to look irritated. The entrance to the park was flanked by tall conical pine trees, bordered by a iron fence with the name of the park in iron letters. Marva Plaza. As the numerous crowds of stitchpunks was making way for them, 9 saw the stage in the distance, ready to be used.

1 looked from the left to the right. A great tree stood near the west face, shading a group of stitchpunks sitting underneath. A small grove of thinner trees, birch to be exact, were located in the east. Flowers towered over the stitchpunks, as they all did, providing shade, much like the trees did. The trio were nearing the stage, and that meant everyone would make way for their prince. It was something 9 wished would stop for just one day.

"I usually sit in the front," spoke 9, "as I always do."

"I would've thought you'd have your own box," quipped 1, "it's more appropriate that way."

9 shrugged, sighing lowly.

When his usual seat was empty, 9 immediately rushed over to it with 1 taking the seat beside him. 8 stood by them, his halberd at the side, prepared in case of an attack.

On stage, a cloaked stitchpunk with fabric a color too pale to name stepped up, waving to the audience.

9 applauded, only because it was what he was supposed to do, as he got ready to see the show take full swing.

The castle doors opened, 9, 1, and 8 traipsing in. Nearby servants stopped to bow or curtsy before the prince, greeting him accordingly. 9 returned the gesture by bowing back, remembering to keep a smile.

A female stitchpunk strode up to the three, curtsying in deference.

"Prince 9," she said. She had yarn hair in a taupe color falling to her shoulders. "You have returned from your outing."

"Yes, I am." 9 wondered how long he would have to endure this routine.

"The King wishes to see you," said the stitchpunk. She stood up straight, optics looking from him to the count and back.

"Very well," said 9. Turning to 8, he added, "Take Count 1 to his room in the guest suite."

"Yes, Your Highness," replied 8 gruffly. He looked over at 1, nodding him over, indicating he follow him.

The count registered the idea and walked beside the talk guard.

"Come this way," said the yarn-haired stitchpunk.

9 didn't say anything as he followed the stitchpunk maid down the hall, hoping this sudden meeting wouldn't mean there'd be a lecture.

The hall to the Throne Room led to a set of golden double doors. Two guards stood at each side, both opening them upon seeing the prince come in their wake. Each guard greeted 9, not looking him in the optic. The Throne Room was white with a red carpet leading towards the thrones for him and his father. 9's optics adjusted to the mixed colored lights coming in from the stained glass window above the throne that was placed atop a dais. He saw his father seated on his throne in the center. He spotted 9, his smile never fading.

"Your Majesty," said the stitchpunk, curtsying, "your son, Prince 9."

"Thank you, Eriu," spoke 2, nodding. "You may leave us."

Eriu curtsied quickly before turning toward the double doors.

"You wanted to see me, Father?," queried 9 with a hint of trepidation in his voice.

"Yes, son," said 2, his tone sounding grave but with his usual cheery tone.

9 stood, waiting for him to speak.

"As you know," said 2, "the kingdom has been at peace for some time."

9 nodded, unable to help the nerves riling him up.

"Ever since the death of the South Kingdom's Crown Princess," said 2, his solemn look reflecting the tone in his voice, "the heir that's next in line for the throne is now of age for marriage."

At that moment, 9's breath was caught in his throat.

"What are you saying?," asked 9, seemingly afraid.

"There is the matter of unifying our kingdoms," explained 2, standing up. He carefully stepped off the dais, strolling up to 9, "and the kingdom needs an heir."

"Father, I cannot—"

"Son, please—"

"No!" 9's tone was out of place for a prince, but he didn't care that he was losing his temper. The mere mention of marriage was always quick to make him snap, especially when it was with someone he did not love.

"9," said 2, sighing a breath, "you know this just as much as I that this is important to unify our kingdoms so, that we can make the kingdom stronger."

"I understand, Father," insisted 9, "I do. But I have never met this heir before, whoever he or she is—"

"The possibility of another war breaking out is inevitable," snapped 2, voice suddenly raised, startling 9 enough to silence him. The zippered stitchpunk stared. He was so surprised he didn't even try defending himself as 2 continued speaking.

Calmly, 2 continued, "If we want to keep the peace between the South Kingdom, you have to marry the younger of the two heirs in." He placed a hand on 9's shoulders, looking at him in an almost pleading way. "Please, son, for the good of our kingdom."

9 stared hard into his father's optics. There was so much wisdom behind that vase, and yet, he was so tired as well. So very tired. He ruled Numeria for many years, and the mentioning of heirs and marriage made 9 recoil in disgust. He could see his future slipping away from him, and he wanted to for something, anything to not have to go through the marriage.

The young prince took a breath, putting his hand over 2's hand, hoping he didn't see the pity in his optics.

"I," he said hesitantly, "I'll go through with the marriage. If only to save our kingdom, and ensure the safety of our subjects."

2, though seeing the reluctance in his son, gave a rueful smile.

"I know you'll be a great ruler someday," he said, placing a hand on 9's cheek.

"I hope I to be, Father," said 9.

His gaze fell to the floor, anywhere to not meet his father's optics. He wished for the ground to swallow him whole. For all this to be a nightmare. Anything was better than having to go through this marriage. A dreadful feeling ricocheted in him as he imagined his life with his future betrothed. He wished for to be all a dream.

Anything would be better than facing this reality.

I know the first chapter seems rushed, and it is. I was in so much of a hurry to finish that I might've missed a few points in the story. *shrugs* Hehe.

I haven't written a chaptered story in a while, so I am rusty. Supremely rusty. I guess I'm just not used to AUs focusing on 9. That's what it must be.

Chapter 2 will be more or less awkward than this one. It's a start, right?