IN TIMES OF WAR, you had to choose who your allies were, and who you allied yourself to.
People you knew would always be loyal, and people you would always be loyal too.
And sometimes, it's not always the people you think it will be.
When pushed and pulled to the limit, you see how raw, animalistic, and desperate a person can become.
He had been tortured, I knew that much, just looking at his swollen face, I wondered why he didn't just tell them, why did he go through so much?
He smirked at me, the same smirk he showed me since childhood, and then I knew why.
It was never a lie, if anything I had lied to myself and let others lie to me.
So long as he was here, and so long as he loved, not only me, but his people, he would endure death.
PALE LIGHT BROKE THROUGH her window, the full force of the sun blocked by the overcast sky.
She was alone, and she would be for just a few seconds more, before her entourage came in to dress her, feed her, comb her like a pet.
Ahiru stood and walked to her window, she pushed the pane open and put out a bowl of birdseed, but no birds came.
She understood why, it was unbearably cold, and she knew it would start to snow soon.
There was a knock at her door, but they didn't wait for her to answer, Lillie and Miss. Edel walked in, her hand wrapped firmly around Uzura's, and another woman came in, but not Pique.
Every since that night Pique had stayed away from the castle.
She was dressed quickly, something beautiful, she was sure, that made her skin glow, but she didn't care.
Her hair was brushed and arranged into something stylish, wrapped in a bun, with tiny little braids to add accents. It was a simple style, but that was because Pique wasn't there to fix her hair.
The new maid powdered her face, covering her freckles and making her tan skin appear paler.
Her ears were jabbed, and cold metal was shackled to her neck, she felt the fancy pins that held down a circlet and when she looked in the mirror she looked like a Princess, but hardly herself.
She felt like she was ready and expected to be escorted to breakfast next.
"Today many people will arrive and you are expected to meet them." Miss. Edel began, a no nonsense tone in her voice, Uzura still in her grasp, pushing uselessly at her mother's hand. "The Nobles of Bavaria have come for this ball and your wedding, not just the nobles from Nordlingen. They have come from all over the state. An ambassador from each state has been invited. And I do believe, from Schleswig-Holstein, they have sent a friend."
Ahiru nodded, keeping her hands folded in her lap as she listened.
"You will have lunch, only, with the royal family, and your walk with Autor. After you will have some time to rest before the ball.
"You are expected back here at four o'clock so you may get started, Master Femio has asked us to give him three hours to prepare you."
Ahiru nodded, she felt her stomach tighten.
Miss. Edel left, her hand never releasing Uzura even as she started to whine, and the other maid went with her.
"Here."
Ahiru looked up at Lillie, she held a small cookie in her hand. "They're not giving you breakfast today."
"What? Why not?" Ahiru took the cookie and nibbed at it, if it was her only meal until noon she didn't want to gobble it down.
"Something about your figure." Lillie shrugged, but there was something off, missing was her flamboyant and passionate speech, she seemed somber.
"Lillie." Ahiru reached out and held her hand.
Ahiru's hands had been rough, they had always been rough, whenever her father came to port, she helped bring the ship in, tying it down so it wouldn't float away and helped him cast off, she hoisted things onto the deck, as much as she could carry. She took care of the garden they had at home, tending to her mother's horse, she took care of the house, and it was a habit she had been unable to drop until she came here, where everything was done for her, every chore, every meal, her hands were not needed.
Her hands, throughout the years, had become work weary, she was used to callouses, and dryness. After a month of being a Princess, of only letting her hands touch silk and lotion, it was like all her work had been erased. There was no evidence that she was the proud daughter of a fisherman.
Lillie's hands were like what hers once were.
They were rough, calloused, they were dry and weary.
It made Ahiru feel even more like a fake.
"Lillie, are you okay?"
Lillie gave her a smile, but after a shaky breath, it fell and she shook her head.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Lillie nodded and Ahiru stood, giving Lillie the vanity stool. Ahiru sat with her legs bent under her, giving Lillie a small reassuring smile.
"It's Pique." She started.
Her green eyes, always filled with laughter, grew wet with unshed tears.
"She can't face you, so she refuses to come here."
Ahiru tilted her head. "Why can't she- Oh."
Ahiru thought back, when she had gone to Charon's house, and Pique was there, looking distraught and troubled.
She wore the look Lillie wore now.
"She's been in love with Fakir since she was a little girl. But now he's in love with you."
"Lillie he's not-" Ahiru paused, her hand lifting to her lips. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel his lips pressing to hers. "He's not in love with me."
"We watch you run off into the forest together." Lillie confessed. "We watch as you abandon Autor to take his hand."
Ahiru felt ashamed of herself. "I'm- I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt anyone-"
"Pique knows that he doesn't love her, but she still can't bring herself to let him go." Lillie cut her off. "But I just want to tell her to move on!" Lillie let out a flash of anger, but deflated again. "Can I tell you something? And you promise not to be mad?"
Ahiru nodded. How could she ever be mad at them?
"Pique told the Bookmen where you and Fakir were going every afternoon, that you ran out past the gate. And I think-" Lillie sniffled. "I think that's why Fakir got arrested."
"What?"
"I think they started watching you two, watching when you left and when you came night… There was a sound like someone scraping bricks against bricks, and when we came out to see, they were dragging Fakir away." Lillie fiddled with her apron. "Pique chased after him, but I went to see where they came from and I saw that garden." There was a look of awe in her eye. "I had never seen it before. I went back the other day and they covered the hole with a tapestry."
"Lillie." Ahiru lifted herself up, she ran her thumb on Lillie's cheek, wiping at the tears. "I'm not mad, not at you or Pique."
Lillie smiled.
"You should go and tell her. How you feel."
"I don't know what you-"
"You care for her, for Pique, a lot. It's okay. But you should be honest with how you feel." Ahiru offered her a smile.
Lillie nodded, she stood, taking Ahiru with her, and they parted, leaving Ahiru alone.
Was it wrong?
She had only been here for seven weeks, but Pique had loved Fakir for years.
Was it wrong that she stole his afternoons?
That they ran away to the forest?
Was she hurting Pique so terribly that Pique couldn't even look her in the eye?
She didn't want to believe that she could cause so much damage, not when she was so happy when she was with Fakir…
But she was.
She had hurt Pique and it simply wasn't fair.
And what did Fakir feel in all this?
What if she had stolen him away from Pique.
Worse, what if she was only seeing what she wanted to see, that she was projecting her own emotions on him.
But it was her he kissed.
Ahiru bit her lip, he had kissed her, and made her promise she wouldn't marry Autor.
There was a knock at her door and Edel returned.
"There is a room full of very important people that would like to meet you, Princess."
Ahiru nodded, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and met Miss. Edel at the door.
Ahiru walked down the halls of the castle, hiding her chills when her eyes met the window and she saw that the sky was just as dark as it was when she woke despite that by now the sun would be high in the sky given any other day.
She was thrown into a room milling with Nobles, she saw that Mytho and Rue were already there, and Autor was standing silently next to the Queen, both offering a bow at any who came close to them.
Rue came to her immediately, stealing her from Edel, "Ah, there you are, I was wondering when you'd come." Rue pressed a light kiss to Ahiru's cheek, just barely, not enough to leave a tinted stain on her porcelain skin.
Rue was determined to take her around the room to introduce her to all who had come, but they seemed rather interested in Ahiru and came to greet her.
"Mr. Cat." Rue said, giving him a friendly bow, which he returned. "I believe you have already met my sister-in-law."
"Yes, but what a pleasure to meet again." He took Ahiru's hand and rested a kiss on her knuckles.
He moved away only for a couple to take his place, the two bowed deeply to her.
"This is the Lord and Lady of Stimmung." Rue gave them a gracious smile. "Benek and Adaline."
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
Adaline laughed and smiled, "Your Majesty, you have! I have been at every ball, every festival, we were never properly introduced is all."
Benek smiled brightly. "One day, you will have to come to our manor for a cup of tea, we have been to Arnis before but would love to hear about her culture from her Princess."
Ahiru smiled awkwardly. "Right, of course. Perhaps in spring? When it's not so cold."
"It sounds splendid." Lady Adaline praised. "I'll write you a letter when the birds return."
A proper smile pulled at Ahiru's lips. "That would be a perfect time."
The four bowed and the Lord and Lady walked away.
"The Marquess of Vermittlung, Reginald, and his granddaughter Heidi."
An old man, balancing on his cane, gave her a bow, his entire body shaking. His other hand held his granddaughter's, she couldn't have been more than nine, but Ahiru offered her a smile anyway. "It is an honor to finally meet our future Queen, I have heard much about you."
Ahiru blushed. "I hope I live up to your expectations."
"Anyone can, so long as they take their time with what they're doing." He tilted his head closer to hers, as if he had a secret to share. "The downfall of a King is caused when he doesn't take his time to solve his problems."
"It's best not to be rash." She nodded in agreement, but after a moment's consideration, she added. "But, sometimes a King needs to be swift, lest his problem only gets worse the more a solution is delayed."
He seemed satisfied with such an answer and bowed again, his cane pounding against the floor with each step he took. His granddaughter twisting around to give Ahiru a parting wave.
"The Earl and Countess of Stärke. Berinhard and Valerie."
A young lady and her companion gave her a bow, it was obvious they were siblings with their matching eyes and similar dark hair.
Ahiru smiled at them, before she could utter a hello, the young man said:
"Hey you're the girl that went past the gate at the jousting tournament! I'm the guy that went against the black knight and lost. Oh, I guess everyone knows who he is now."
Valerie rolled her eyes and dug her elbow into his side. "Forgive Bernie, he doesn't know when to shut up."
Berinhard reached behind her and pulled her hair.
She gasped. "You are being so rude!"
"What are you gonna do? Tell mom?"
"I might." She gasped sharply and turned to Ahiru, to apologize.
But Ahiru was laughing, how could she not when they reminded her so much of her own brothers?
Well…
The boys she thought of as brothers.
"You remind me of my family." She told them.
"Do you miss them?" Valerie asked, the teasing smile she gave her brother turned gentle for Ahiru.
She nodded. "Sometimes." She turned to look to Rue. "But I prefer my new family."
"Ha, I knew it." Valerie turned on her brother. "I knew I wouldn't miss you. C'mon, we've taken enough of her time."
Valerie offered Ahiru another bow before dragging Bernhard away.
"The Baroness of Taktik, Mildred."
A woman in her forties, with glasses hanging on the bridge of her nose, gave an exaggerated bow. "How are you faring, your Majesty?"
"Well, I think." Ahiru spoke before she processed her words.
She laughed. "Good, there should always be a bit of uncertainty, it gives you room to grow. Ah! Felix! Come over and meet the next Queen!" Mildred turned back to Ahiru and whispered in her ear. "This is the Duke of Verstand."
Ahiru looked over at a stern man who leisurely made his way towards her.
Ahiru felt her eyes widen, she had to pick her jaw off the floor because the man that stood before her, tall and lean, with hair combed back without a stray hair, spektacles pushed up to the bridge of his nose, was a carbon copy of Autor. The man she saw at the Prüfung who she thought was Autor. She had never seen him this close before.
Covered in a few wrinkles, the sides of his temples turning grey, but they looked so much alike, there was no doubt that this man was Autor's father.
"Your Majesty, I understand that you are to wed the Crowned Prince tomorrow."
Ahiru nodded.
"He's a good man, just a little impatient, so be patient with him." Felix looked over at Autor, a concealed sadness in his eyes.
But as he turned back, the candlelight beamed down and there was a sparkle of light that caught Ahiru's eye, she looked and pinned to his chest was a bronze oak tree.
Ahiru gasped, but covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes went to Mildred and searched her attire, at her collar there was a small tree made out of hard leather, the details carved in.
Ahiru looked around at the other Nobles who had just introduced themselves.
Reginald had the tree carved into his cane.
Valerie wore hers in her hair, and her brother had his sewn to his shirt.
Adaline and Benek had matching pendants that hung from their necks.
Ahiru stood and met the ambassador of each state, and even there she found that they wore oak trees.
Some made of leather, some made of wrought iron like hers had been, some silver, some gold, one Lady had pears growing from the branches.
All around her she saw the same symbol.
The same symbol of hope.
"Ahiru?"
Ahiru's head snapped to her side, where she saw-
"Rudolf. What are you doing here?"
Rudolf smiled. "I'm here as the ambassador of Schleswig-Holstein." He leaned in to whisper. "Mother wanted to check if you were alright."
Ahiru glared at him, something she had never done before, and it must have been a good one, seeing as he leaned back in fear. "She sent me away so her son wouldn't try and marry me."
His expression turned stoney. "Ahiru, he didn't love you, and this was- is - for the best."
Ahiru lifted her chin. "I know it is. Tomorrow I'll be Queen, and what will he be?"
"Ahiru, wait!"
Ahiru turned away from him, tore her arm from Rue and left the room, the party, the silly little meet and greet, until she found herself going North, toward the King's quarters.
She found the tapestry easily, the hall she stood in so much colder than any other, what with the outside leaking in.
Ahiru pushed the tapestry back and she was in the garden again.
It was different this time. Different without Fakir.
Everything looked dead.
The plants gone into hibernation, their leaves frosted over, or simply browning.
She found the path easily, back to the gazebo, where Fakir had robbed her of her pin.
"Where did he throw it?" She asked herself, trying to find the piece of metal in the dirt.
She lifted her skirts and got down on her hands and knees, pushing past dirt and leaves until her hand hit something smooth and hard.
Hidden under the foliage of a bush, she found her broach.
She would be damned if she let anyone think her heart belonged to anyone other than Fakir.
SHE WASHED HER HANDS before she joined the others at lunch.
She was glad they didn't have to entertain the other nobles and ambassadors, she wasn't sure if she could any longer.
She sat next to Mytho, and across from Rue, but her eyes stayed glued on Autor.
Just like Helmia, he ate without talking, without thinking, just a blank slate, his strings being pulled by someone else.
The door opened and all halted as they looked at the late comer.
"Apologies." Drosselmeyer smirked. "I had some business to attend to, now, what were you all talking about?"
"Nothing." Ahiru said blatantly. She picked up her spoon and blew on the soup.
"Well, may I fill the air?"
"No, you may not."
"Ahiru." Mytho warned under his breath giving her a slight shake of his head.
"The day has been busy, a moment of peace and quiet, is that too much too ask?" Ahiru squirmed in her seat, she was doing her best to be rude, she had two great examples sitting across from her. But both Rue and Autor remained politely quiet.
Apparently Ahiru was going to have to be the one to stand up to him.
Drosselmeyer grit his teeth, his eyes narrowing at her. "A moment of peace, soon peace will be all you know." But Drosslemeyer remained quiet throughout the rest of lunch.
Ahiru kept her back straight, she wouldn't let Drosselmeyer's words sink into her, not when she knew Fakir would protect her.
He would get out soon, he would get out soon and he would run the Königsspiel.
She had to put her faith in him.
She felt a heated gaze bore into her flesh, and when she looked over at Drosselmeyer she noticed that his seething look was aimed at her breast.
She sat straighter, pushing her chest out, proudly showcasing the oak tree.
Lunch was over sooner than later and Ahiru left the dining hall with Autor.
She let out a sigh of relief. "That was awful." She exclaimed. "That evil Drosselmeyer just coming in and thinking he can do whatever he wants. He should learn how to read the atmosphere of the room!"
But her complaining landed on deaf ears.
Autor walked without purpose, with a straight spine, a level chin.
She wondered if he could hear her at all.
"Does it hurt? Being under his control?" Ahiru pouted, she knew Autor wouldn't speak. Not unless he was told. "You know, Fakir wrote a story once, about a duck. To test his powers, he didn't write about how it ended, but I'd imagine… it didn't end well for the duck."
She looked up at Autor again, he didn't roll his eyes at her, or call her names, he didn't offer his critic, asked or not.
He was still mean, and he was still rude, but she had learned to look past that.
She had learned something about Autor that she was sure his father knew too: that he was a good man.
He was smart, she would say something and he would give her an answer, something science and fact based.
He was filled with junk like that, and while he could work on his phrasing, she knew that he was excited when he could impart upon her his knowledge.
With a roll of his eye, he would call her stupid for not knowing, but she could still see, the light in his eyes as he spoke.
She had come to think of him as a friend, and if not for Fakir, she would have been fine marrying him.
"I'm sure you know about Drosselmeyer, or at least heard rumors about him, and the power he has. It scares me… It scares me that Fakir has the same gift." Ahiru tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "But I'm glad that he's sworn not to use it!" she pouted again. "But I also know that, he has to. To win against Drosselmeyer, it's not a battle of strength, like the fight he had with you, but of who has the most power."
Autor didn't speak, but paused in his steps.
"When he wins, will you go out into the world?"
He took deep and even breaths.
"You could go out and learn new things, I know you want to do that."
He started walking again.
"And when you come back, you can tell me about all you learned."
"You sound sure that Fakir will win."
Ahiru squeaked, she hadn't expected him to speak, but she knew it wasn't Autor speaking…
But Drosselmeyer.
"Fakir is the true King, the forest accepted him, and tomorrow, when he runs, he'll win. I only hope that he won't leave you to die." Ahiru felt her brows pull down over her eyes. "I'd miss you. You know, you remind me of Ivan."
"Who is that?"
"He's my brother, the second born son. He's like you, too, analytical, but he was always quiet, he never liked to dance at balls or parties, and at dinner he'd keep to himself, or speak softly to Rudolf or Peter, he never talked to me or Gero much, but if he did it would be to tell us to stop running up and down the halls! Or to settle down when we were being too loud." She allowed herself to giggle.
Ahiru looked over at Autor, his features blank and he didn't respond.
At least Drosselmeyer had left them alone once more.
Good.
Their walk finished, the afternoon was hers, at least until four, then Femio would come and get her ready for the mask.
She went to her room, she would be by herself for the next few hours, but she didn't mind, in fact she had something to pass the time.
Ahiru pulled out the journal from its hidden place under her pillow.
Fakir has written so many stories, and each one captivated her.
FOUR O'CLOCK CAME SOONER than she would have liked, but she smiled politely at Femio and placed the journal back under her pillow.
He handed her a plate filled with dried meats and fruit. "I know they try to keep food from you on days like these."
"Thank you."
He clapped his hands. "First! Your hair."
Femio ushered her to her vanity and began pulling her hair out of its haphazard bun and started untwisting the braids.
"Now, I know that the style this year has been up, up, up! But I want you to stand out!" He picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.
"You're doing my hair, Femio? Not one of your attendants?"
"My dear, if you are not perfect for tonight, it will be because I have failed you and no one else."
Ahiru smiled, she reached back and grabbed his hand; giving it a squeeze. "Thank you."
The corner of his lips twitched. "Now, I have seen your hair in it's full glory, and I believe that this is the best way to fully utilize your natural beauty."
He took to brushing her hair out, getting rid of the tangles and kinks.
"Will you be there, Femio?" She looked at him in the mirror.
"How do you expect me to avoid a party as grand as this?"
"Promise me, then, that you'll dance with me?"
Femio gave her a sad smile. "Of course I will, but may I ask, why? Surely your night with be filled with wonderful dances lead by your betrothed."
"No, Autor isn't one to dance, and I ask because I want at least one good dance for tonight."
"Princess, it would be an honor to dance with you. There, all done."
Femio had done little more than take a few pieces from the front and pin them to the back, the rest he let frame her face, cascading down her back. It was different from the current style.
But she preferred it.
Femio was right, she was bound to stand out, and Ahiru had made the decision that if she was going to stand out, she was going to shine while she was at it.
"I have one last piece that I will add after you are situated in your gown, but I want your opinion of the mask I designed for you."
Femio walked over to an assistant who held a mahogany box, and when it was opened, Ahiru could see the red velvet that lined the interior and cushioned whatever was inside.
Femio lifted a golden mask from the box and placed it in her hands.
"Oh, Femio."
An eye mask, one that wouldn't cover the entirety of her face, golden ribbon threaded through the side that she was sure would be easily hidden by her hair. In the center, at her forehead was a little golden sun, and from that sun carvings and detail erupted, like drops of sun and rays of light curved down the right side of the mask, but the left was bare.
"An asymmetric mask, when all others will be symmetrical."
"You really want me to just stick out like a sore thumb, don't you." She smiled and shook her head. "I love it."
Femio smiled. "Really?"
"Really." She placed the mask on her vanity, spreading out the ribbon until it poured over the sides.
It reminded her, just for a moment, of the fair, of sitting at the booth with the ribbons, and that whole time, Fakir was only moments away.
Femio had started her make up, washing her face clean, first, of the day's sweat and dirt until her face was a canvas.
"What lovely skin." He remarked, taking her chin between two fingers and pushing her face side to side. "And they hide it under all that paint." Femio tsked. "You have been kissed by the sun and they stick out their tongues in disgust."
He made the decision to leave her face bare of the powder and she was eternally grateful.
Femio took goldleaf and painted it on her face, making her cheekbones light up and glow brightly, he took a pale pink rose and applied it to her lips and declared her ready.
It was so… simple.
Her hair, her face, all of it.
It wasn't the extravagance she expected.
Femio extended his hand and led her away from the vanity.
"And now, for mon chef-d'œuvre."
The dress.
It was unlike any other she had seen, and mostly because of it's strange design.
In short it was very circular.
With a stiff, transparent tulle, and layers and layers of fabric he had created a skirt that flared out at the waist, it was voluminous and with the golden fabric he used, spoke of wealth, but he promised that wasn't what the dress was.
"You come into the ballroom, the light shines off the satin of your skirt, you float down the stairs like the setting sun, because you are the sun! And for once the sun and the moon are together."
It was a pretty image, and when Ahiru saw it as a golden sun and not a golden coin, it became something much more magical.
She was tied into a bodice, she dove into the peti-skirts, and when she stepped into her shoes - golden, just like the rest of her - she felt ready to leave, the clock struck seven, and she knew that guests would be arriving.
"Wait! Your mask." Femio came around her and tied it into place, one side feeling heavier than the other. She touched her fingers to it and smiled at him and was about to speak of her gratitude when he placed something on her head.
He held up a mirror and on her head, like the rays of the sun, he placed a headband, a spiked halo.
"Now, you are ready."
FEMIO HAD TO LEAVE to prepare for the ball himself, and was unsurprised when there was a knock at her door to escort her to the ball.
"Remember, Ahiru." Femio raise his hands and placed them over her heart. "The moon cannot shine without the sun."
He bowed and kissed her hand, and left her.
Ahiru lifted a hand to her chest, and felt a familiar piece of jewelry. The oak tree broach.
Situated proudly over her heart.
She watched as Femio left, he turned sorrowful eyes on Autor as he left, but said nothing, for what could he say to a Prince?
Ahiru wrapped her hand around his elbow and was whisked away.
"We're late." Autor said.
And Ahiru smiled, because that sounded like the true Autor. "I've never been on time."
He scoffed. "Why am I not surprised?"
She giggled, that was definitely the real Autor. "So will this be like the other balls?"
He heaved a heavy sigh. "Of sorts, however, since there are so many ambassadors from other states, we will be expected to meet with each of them."
"Ah man, didn't we do that earlier?"
Autor smirked. "That was to get familiar, this is a bit different, it won't be bad."
They came to a halt at the open doors, waiting their turn to be introduced.
The shouter inclined his head, before shouting, "Announcing the Crown Prince Lohengrin Autor of Bavaria, and his betrothed, the Crowned Princess Odette Ahiru of Schleswig-Holstein."
All in attendance, and it did appear that all were in attendance, applauded their entrance, and together they offered a deep bow and curtsy.
She smiled, but when she looked to her left, she almost expected someone else to be beside her.
They took their time coming down the staircase, and it appeared that that was where they would have to greet all those who had come.
It wasn't so bad, and Ahiru was able to recall the names that were told to her.
Mytho and Rue came up to her, and Ahiru delighted in the obvious contrast in their costumes.
Rue wore a dress that appeared like flames, bright reds and oranges, fading into a deep charcoal at her bodice, her mask black and the feathers sprouting from her hair growing into the sky like smoke.
While Mytho stood beside her, clad in pale blue, his mask like the ripples in a pond.
They came up to Autor and Ahiru and bowed to them and Ahiru almost couldn't hold in her laughter.
"What?" Rue asked, she smiled too, her lips a pretty red. "What's so funny?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow." Ahiru promised.
How could she explain to Rue that she thought it was ironic that two born of noble blood just bowed to two fakes?
Rue and Mytho left and the light music grew louder, even over the conversations that took place, and everyone knew that it was time to dance.
"How am I supposed to dance with you when you're wearing something so ridiculous?" Autor complained, his arms reaching out awkwardly to hold her hand and waist.
Ahiru giggled. "It's clothing, it's moldable."
Autor scoffed and rolled his eyes and as he held her through the first dance, she finally realized what he was supposed to represent.
His coat had been a strange one, made with multiple colors, greys and dark blues, violets, his mask was a pale gold. He was a lightning storm.
It was something only Femio could think of.
"Did he make your costume?"
Autor sighed. "Who?"
Ahiru rolled her eyes at him. "You know who. Femio."
"Yes, he did." He said, and the slightest smile overtook his features. "He said that I had a stormy expression one day and it hit him, what my costume would be." The smile faded as soon as it came. "But there's a reason for that stormy expression, Ahiru, and you know what it is."
Ahiru suddenly became fearful, in the grandeur of it all she had forgotten where she was, that she was not safe at home, but in a forgein place, where she had an enemy, where she had made herself a target with the pin she wore over her heart.
She remembered that there was a slim chance of hope; that tomorrow might not even give Bavaria a King, but two dead men.
That Fakir wasn't safe.
That he wasn't here, dancing with her, but in a dark place that one was never meant to leave.
She stopped, and Autor kicked her shins.
"Hey, what'd you stop for?"
"I'm sorry."
There was a tap on Autor's shoulder, and a "May I cut in?"
Autor peeled away without so much of a fight and Rudolf took his place, taking Ahiru's hand, placing his on her waist.
"You seemed to be in trouble with your future husband."
Ahiru pouted, but didn't look up at him, she simply carried on with the dance. "There is no trouble, only a miscommunication."
Rudolf nodded. "How do you like it here? Miss Arnis?"
"I miss my father, if that's what you mean." She said, perhaps too coldly.
She was spending too much time with Autor.
"We all miss your father, Ahiru, I meant do you miss the sea? I already do and I've only been here two days."
"I miss a lot of things, the water, the ships and sailing, the fish and the seals, but Rudolf, I've found a home here."
Rudlof furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't miss Arnis, that it's not my home anymore."
Rudolf stopped. "Mom wanted to make you an offer."
Ahiru listened, but she still never looked him in the eye.
"She feels bad, Gero feels bad. She's offering you Gero's hand in marriage, if you accept it, she'll send down another-"
"No thank you."
"What?"
Ahiru turned her gaze to him. It was funny, she had lived her whole life looking to him like the family she never had, but when she thought of Rue, when she thought of Mytho, when she thought of Fakir, she had created her own family, and she chose to love them.
"I don't love Gero any longer, and frankly, Prince Rudolf, I don't love you anymore, either."
Rudolf narrowed his eyes down at her. "You're making a mistake, accept the offer."
"No!" Ahiru pulled her hands from his grip. "Tomorrow, I'll have more authority than you've ever had in your life!"
A hand stole hers with ease and she was whisked away into another dance, only her partner was twice as undesirable as Rudolf.
Drosselmeyer.
"What would you want?" She asked, sick and tired of being pushed and prodded.
Drosselmeyer wore nothing out of the ordinary except his mask, that of a plague doctor's, the circular eyes and drooping beak.
"Just this dance." He told her. "Although, I think it is only fair to warn you that a storm is coming."
Ahiru went along with the dance. "I think the one who is about to get caught out in a storm is you, Herr Drosselmeyer."
"You think you can stop me? You think he can stop me? That insufferable brat is on the brink of death."
"What did you do to him?" Ahiru felt her stomach tie into knots, she didn't let herself think about what happened in the dungeon, it would only bring pain.
"We tried our best to convince him to tell us the names, but there is only so much a man is willing to take before he breaks."
Ahiru gulped. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything." Drosselmeyer grinned, but from where she stood it looked much more like a grimace.
"What did you write?"
"Ah! Now you're asking the right questions." He laughed, and his steps lead her into a more complicated waltz. "I have the entire guard under my strings, and with each pull, I hurt him more and more. A punch to the throat, a kick to the ribs, it's all in good manners, all's fair in love and war, wouldn't you say, Princess?"
Ahiru grit her teeth, in her ears echoed the sounds of Fakir getting beaten, his rasping throat crying out in agony. When she shut her eyes, she could only see it, Fakir doubled over in horrible, heart wrenching pain.
"I only do what I believe to be best for my kingdom."
"It's not your kingdom, and it never will be."
Even with the mask covering his face, she could see how angry he had become, his expression turned dark, his grin curled into a snarl.
"We will see."
He left her there, in the middle of the ballroom.
Ahiru pouted, and walked to the edge of the ballroom, searching for something or someone to cling onto.
Where was Femio? He had promised her a dance.
She picked up a flute of champagne and started drinking it, letting the bubbles pop over her tongue, let it burn her insides and give her indescribable warmth.
Ahiru glued herself to the wall, she wanted nothing to do with the ball any longer.
But, as if her prayers had been answered, the shouter cried. "The Master Femio! Dress designer, hailing from the House of Stimmung!"
At the top of the stairs, looking too much like a peacock, Femio bowed to his audience and descended the stairs like he was floating on air, and it made Ahiru smile, he was born to do this, to be a show-off.
She went to meet him and he offered her his hand.
"My darling how have you been in my absence?"
"Terrible!" Ahiru shook her head and could barely hold back tears as Femio lead her in a simple box step. She went over the course her night took her when he left her and before he arrived. "I just want to leave."
Femio smiled. "Just wait, just wait and it will all have been worth it."
Ahiru sighed and shook her head. "No, none of this is worth it, and worst of all I'm up here while Fakir is suffering."
"Oh, mon petit coeur, not for long."
"What?"
Then, the grand doors of the ballroom crashed open, Ahiru gasped and turned her head to stare, so did many others, and even the music fell silent as a man dressed in blue stood in the open doorway.
Compared to the world around him, the hall washed in gold from the candle light, his dark blue coat became striking, more striking, she was sure, than it was against a blue backdrop and she couldn't help but be drawn to him.
She let go of Femio's hands and walked to the staircase as he made his way down.
Surely it couldn't have been Fakir, he was imprisoned, being tortured. The man that stood on the steps had short, cropped hair, whereas Fakir's was long and pulled back with a leather cord. It could have been anyone under that mask, covering his entire face leaving only slits for the eyes.
His steps down the staircase were slow and calculated, his head turning slightly from side to side, looking for something, or someone.
Seemingly, everyone else knew that she was coming, because they cleared the way for her, and when she finally stood in clear view of the man, he became starstruck. He stumbled, almost falling down the last three steps, but he had found what he was looking for.
Ahiru walked until her toes hit the bottom step and she looked up at him, and him down at her, and past the silver mask, she recognized those green eyes.
Her lips trembled and she could feel her eyes watering.
"Fa-"
He offered her his hand, and she took it, as they walked, the dance floor was cleared of all who stood there previously, and she almost didn't notice, she was too distracted by the fact that he was here.
Holding her hand.
Fakir sent a glance to the band and with a silent command, the miniature orchestra began a beautiful ballad.
His hand warm on her waist, the other lifting her hand high in the air, he began to dance.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Dancing."
"You'll get caught, they'll take you away! You have to leave!" She begged.
"Drosselmeyer wants me to run."
Her eyes scanned over him, the way Drosselmeyer talked had sounded like Fakir was broken, like his entire body would have been black and blue.
"You're not hurt?"
"No," He shook his head. "I went to the forest, to the healing spring."
His dance had been simple and slow, matching the music that was played, but now it was becoming more complex, hurried and desperate, and he matched the tone with his steps.
"So, you'll run? Tomorrow?"
"I have to."
Ahiru shook her head. "Drosselmeyer will try and hurt you again."
"Drosselmeyer has no power over me." Fakir spoke with so much certainty, that for a moment her doubts were cleared away.
"He scares me. Fakir, I'm scared." She spoke plainly, she knew she could, she knew that she could rest all her worries on Fakir and that he would take care of them for her, that all her fears she could trust to place in his hands.
For a moment, Fakir didn't speak, he pulled her closer to him, and although it was inappropriate, she placed her face in the crook of his neck.
"You don't have to worry, not when we have each other." He whispered into her ear.
Ahiru felt weak, but when she stood with Fakir he made her stronger.
Ahiru lifted her head away from his shoulder, he had removed one hand to push the mask off his face, and he smiled at her.
It was such a rare sight, his eyes soft, and a comfort in all the confusion, his lips curved into the barest smile, but it was the most beautiful feature she had ever seen on anyone's face.
He pulled the mask down and she felt mirth bubble in her chest.
Fakir took her hand and danced with her, making her laugh and smile and she knew that under the mask he smiled too, that he couldn't control his joy.
Everything melted away, she wasn't in a crowded ballroom, being watched by hundreds of eyes.
She wasn't in Nordlingen, where her future was set for her, where everything was decided, where she would marry Autor and be Queen, where her face was covered in the make up paint, where she did nothing more than walk around in silk dresses.
She wasn't in Arnis, where the people she thought loved like her family, had only pushed her away, where she was all alone.
No, she was nowhere and everywhere all at once, and the only certainty her heart knew to be true was that tomorrow she would be with Fakir.
As she was now.
Her eyes were never able to leave him, his face, his eyes, the hand on his shoulder clinging, her other relishing in the warmth and feel of his skin.
It didn't matter who she was, who she was born to be, who she pretended to be, she was only a girl.
And Fakir was the only thing that mattered.
She didn't know how long she danced with him, in complete abandon, but soon they had to come to a stop.
In the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of a crowd of people who had started dancing again with them, the bell struck twelve and Fakir pulled away.
He bowed to her and started to walk away.
"Wait!" She cried, she chased after him, her wide skirt catching on other dancers, and she couldn't just sneak past them.
She looked around her, remembering all that she was supposed to be, she saw the Bookmen, the hooded figures standing in the ring, casting judgement upon her.
She gritted her teeth and glared at as many as she could, she fisted her skirts and ran after Fakir.
Ahiru pushed through the crowd until she made her way to the door that lead out into the garden and she stood out on the patio, watching him run away.
"Fakir!" She shouted, she picked up her skirts and kicked off her shoes.
He stopped, and turned to look at her. "Go back, go back to the party."
Ahiru caught up to him and grabbed his hands. "Wait, please?" She reached around her head and pulled at the bow that kept her mask on, not caring for the thing as it fell to the floor.
"It was selfish of me to come here." He said.
"Then why did you come?" Ahiru reached for his face, pulling at the mask, freeing his features; dropping it to the floor to join hers.
What she expected was not what she saw.
She expected an angry expression, angry at her for stopping his escape, she expected his soft expression to be gone, replaced with the hard countenance he usually showcased.
His eyebrows furrowed, but not in frustration, rather in confliction, his hands rose and fell, rose and fell, and she wished he would just decide to touch her.
His eyes searched her face, as if she could give him the answer.
Ahiru took his hand and set it on her cheek and her eyes fluttered closed. She didn't realize how cold her cheeks had been until his warm hand touched her.
He couldn't stop himself then.
He lifted his hand and planted it on the other side of her cheek and pressed his forehead to hers.
"I came because I couldn't resist the chance to see you."
He tilted his head, and she kissed him, crushing her lips to his in utter desperation.
Ahiru's hands lifted to hold onto the edges of his coat, pulling him closer to her, while he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.
He pulled away too quickly, his forehead returning to its place against hers.
Ahiru lifted her hands to touch his face, the soft planes of his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm.
"Tomorrow, I'll see you again?"
"Tomorrow I'll be King." He kissed her palm again. "Please, stay. Rule by my side. Be my Queen."
She felt her heart thundering, because there was nothing more she could have ever wanted. Her lips trembled and she felt tears well up in her eyes.
"I will."
He grinned, wider than she had ever seen him smile, his hands wrapped around her waist and she was hoisted into the air and he spun her round and around before placing her on the ground again, the back of his hand raised to caress her face.
He kissed her again, this time so sweetly she was sure she would melt.
"Ahiru!"
Ahiru gasped sharply, she looked back at the windows, the gislenting lights and watched a figure, dark against the bright panes, call out for her.
"Go back." Fakir told her. "Don't tell anyone you found me."
Ahiru nodded, her hands reaching to touch his face one last time.
His eyes looked down at her lips, and he tilted his head again but her name was called and he pulled away.
Ahiru watched him run off into the distance, she looked down at the two masks that lay on the floor.
Gold and Silver.
Sun and Moon.
"Ahiru!"
She knelt down to pick them up, holding one closer to her heart than the other.
There was a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Ahiru, come back inside, quickly." Mytho told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. "It's the Bookmen."
Ahiru spared a glance at Mytho before she looked back at the ballroom.
She started running, before it turned into a full sprint, leaving Mytho behind her.
Her muddy hem dragged across the floor, her bare feet slapped against the tile as she looked at the grand staircase where the Bookmen stood.
One held a scroll and read from it. "- a dangerous criminal has escaped from our dungeon. A young man who claims that he is the rightful heir to the throne. These lies have been spread throughout the Kingdom and some have chosen to believe these lies."
Ahiru reached back and took Mytho's hand.
"Our rules, our customs, our traditions have not changed, anyone can challenge the Crowned Prince to the Königsspiel, and we have decided that when this traitor to the crown raises his sword in rebellion, we will give him his chance, he will run the race against our Prince Autor. But a warning to all who follow this liar, anyone who stands with him, and believes him to be King, will be pressed with the charges: conspiring against the crown."
A murmur ran through the crowd, and Ahiru, like so many others, touched the oak tree she had pinned above her heart.
"Quiet!" He shouted. He cleared his throat and began reading once more. "It is a reminder that the forest chooses her King!"
"And she'll choose who will best serve us!" Someone shouted.
There was some agreement, others shouting their own protests, and others who didn't know what was going on.
Mostly people like Rudolf.
Rudolf found his way to Ahiru's side. "Ahiru, what's going on?" He asked over the yelling as the Bookman at the staircase tried to silence all who spoke.
She looked over at him, there was a look of worry on his face. She shook her head. "I don't know."
"The True King will take the throne!" Someone close to her shouted.
"What do they mean the True King?" Rudolf asked.
"Quiet!" The Bookman demanded, his voice echoing out over all in attendance, and it was enough.
Ahiru opened her mouth to tell Rudolf to go away but when she looked, he stood with a blank expression.
Her heart pounded, she looked at everyone and they stood at attention, there was nothing in their eyes.
"It is advised that you go home, tell your neighbor this news, sleep well, and tomorrow come to support your King."
Ahiru pulled her hand from Mytho's grip, his eyes glassy.
"Mytho, no." She whispered, reaching out to him, but stopping, there was nothing she could do.
She started moving away, pushing past the mindless guests until she reached a door, a way out, but when she looked over her shoulder, all eyes were on her, including the Bookmen who stood on the steps.
AHIRU RAN FROM THE ballroom until she was safe in her room, she locked the door and started moving furniture in front of it, but it did nothing to make her feel any safer.
She took labored breaths before she collapsed to the floor.
They couldn't do that! They couldn't just arrest everyone!
Drosselmeyer couldn't just take control of everyone like that.
She had to warn Fakir.
She stood, as to go after him, but she had no idea where he was.
She groaned and rubbed her face.
There was a knock at her door and she gasped in fright, but covered her mouth with her hand.
"Ahiru?"
Ahiru sighed in relief. It was Pique.
"Hang on!" She called, she went to move the furniture back - really it was just her nightstand - and opened the door just enough for her to get a good look outside.
Pique smiled before winking.
Ahiru opened the door the rest of the way, sighing in relief. "Come in."
"Thank you."
As soon as Ahiru shut the door, she rounded on Pique. "Did you see what he did?"
Pique nodded.
"We have to tell Fakir."
"Why?"
Ahiru gave her an odd look, one eyebrow raised in confusion. "Because he'll know how to fix it."
Pique shrugged, and Ahiru began to doubt if it was wise to bring her in.
She would have to be careful with what she said.
"We'll have to prepare you for your wedding tomorrow." Pique plucked the crown from Ahiru's head and placed in on the vanity. "To start a bath, and set your hair, we don't want it to dry funnily."
"Pique?" Ahiru asked, looking into her eyes, looking for something that was like the old Pique.
"You'll have to rise early to start the preparations, the ceremony is at ten."
Ahiru nodded. She let Pique undress her and fill the tub in the adjacent room with water.
She was pulled into a cotton shift, and her hair was set to curl, but she stayed silent, no matter how much Pique poked and prodded.
"So who were you dancing with?"
Nothing.
"He must have been someone, you danced with him for three hours."
Ahiru didn't speak, but she blushed. Did she really dance for so long?
"Where did he go after? Did you follow him."
"By the time I reached the garden he was already gone." … she could supply one answer.
She was put in bed, but Pique didn't leave, she sat on the vanity stool and watched Ahiru as she slept, her eyes never moving, barely blinking, and it set Ahiru into a fretful sleep.
Her heart, more than anything, ached for Fakir, to tell him what Drosselmeyer was doing, but also for his touch.
She blushed wildly, her thoughts consumed with desire.
That he would kiss her again.
That he would kiss her tomorrow.
That he would kiss her.