Ballet of Kings and Dolls
Hate Me
A/N: I cannot thank reviewers enough for pushing this story to continue. I really do appreciate from the bottom of my twisted heart. Thank you so much for supporting the story! I am so grateful.
Response to reviewers:
jamiaca: Take good care of your dolls. You never know when they're watching you! No, I'm only joking. Am I? Thanks so much for the review!
fairy: Thank you for taking the time to review my story! It made me motivated so thank you very much! Thanks for the kind comments as well!
machi: I'm updating now! Thank you for reviewing!
kit: Wow, thank you for taking the time to review all three chapters! That was mighty gracious of you so thank you so much! I'm so happy at your comments. I'm relieved that you understand my suspense/drama! Thanks again!
Akiray: Is she evil? I cannot state that but you can decide for yourself! Thanks so much for the great comments and for taking the time to review my story!
priestessmykala:Wow, thanks! I'm glad that it's addicting. Thank you very much for reviewing my story! I appreciate it.
Yuki: Yes, I get bored with moments where the individual shuts their eyes, reopens them, and the ghost/etc is gone. I'm glad you enjoyed that part! Thanks so much for reviewing!
bratsrule: I'm happy I've caught your attention! Thanks so much for taking the time to review this chapter!
lovlee: Thank you very much and I hope you continue t like it!
aian: Fire, you say? If the story continues, then fire there shall be! Thanks for reviewing!
annabelle: Thank you for the review! This story only continued because of reviewers such as yourself so thank you very much! I'm so happy you think it's original! I did try on that so it's great to know you think so! Murata's involvement will intensify just a bit more in the chapter so enjoy!
Thank you again, reviewers.
-x-X-x-
"La, la, la, la, la la..."
Snip.
"La, la, la, la…"
Snip.
Wolfram's subconscious captured the familiar tune that was the distorted and haunting lullaby; the kind that captured in a forebodingly grip that almost candid fright Wolfram had hid away long ago.
"La, la, la, la, la, la…"
Yet with the slightest and most delicate accent to a syllable, the threatening clutch soothed Wolfram's fears with a comforting stroke.
Snip.
That millisecond of condolence bound with the pique of curiosity obligated Wolfram from fleeing and instead, to keep pursuing the source of the unsettling lullaby.
"La, la, la…"
Snip.
Time existed as a man-made innovation and regulated nothing inside the confines and sanctuary of one's mind. What Wolfram perceived to be hours may have been nothing more than seconds when a mighty door manifested before him.
"La, la, la la…"
Snip.
The lullaby did not intensify in strength yet Wolfram was convinced it all resided behind the door he stood in front of. The mere mental demand for the door to unlock and slide open sufficed.
It opened.
"La, la, la, la, la…"
Snip.
The area presided like the center of an ocean, possessing no end and no beginning. It was, however, illuminated with a colorless aura. It warmed Wolfram as much as it chilled and rattled his senses.
A child's voice sang, "La, la, la, la…"
Snip.
Dolls.
They vacated the area in precise and predetermined locations; aligned atop invisible shelves, standing upon two feet, and splayed on their backs. Despite the variation in positions, their painted eyes brightened with lively pity and desperation. Though immobile, they stared at Wolfram.
"La, la…"
Snip.
In the vortex of the juvenile meadow, another doll laid. Face cracking, eyes stuffed with lifeless and black orbs, the doll was the result of abusive play. Its viridian dress shredded and its adorning frills torn only to be discarded with gaping holes.
"La…"
Snip.
In front of the shattered toy, kneeled another doll; one of familiarity. Her movements, though stiff, were undoubtedly testament to her active living state. Her fair coffee curls did not graze her ruby dress.
Wolfram did not recognize the blood had meshed into the seams of her dress, tainting it that stunning crimson shade. The doll ceased her lullaby as if sensing a presence and with rigid and slow twitches to her neck, her face was revealed.
Miss Maiden's lips, a splotch of meticulous expertise, tweaked enough to portray her delight. Her frosty painted eyes fixated on Wolfram and she sang once more, "La, la, la, la, la…My name is Miss Maiden…"
"No," Wolfram, whispered at the sight in Miss Maiden's lap.
Her curled fingers held onto a striking pair of sewing scissors and the arresting sound of 'SNIP' overpowered the slicing and breaking of flesh. The little child's arm, with that final snip, had been successfully dismantled from the rest of his body.
"La, la, la, la…I'm sweet as sweet can be…"
Wolfram's eyes slid beyond Miss Maiden's form where she held the severed arm and torso of a child. There laid the remaining fragments of a little girl, her legs neatly stacked upon each other and her head decapitated in the most ritualistic manner.
"La, la, la, la, la…I'll be your closest friend…"
The girl's eyes, stolen from her now empty sockets, swam in a lagoon of the victim's own blood. They rolled and slid around each other, mocking a waltz dance. At times, they staggered back into appropriate position when tripping over strands of the girl's cut golden curls.
"La, la…And I'll keep you company…la, la, la, la…My name is Miss Maiden…"
The suddenly sharp albeit gleeful bite to the lullaby sent Wolfram stumbling back.
"La, la, la…But I'll warn you one last time…"
Wolfram panicked as his limbs grew unyielding and tight. Like the roots of a tree crawling and intertwining with the earth, an unknowing force overtook Wolfram's skin, creeping upward in a branch like motion.
With the effort that drained too much energy, Wolfram obligated his fingertips to clutch at his hardening face in a futile attempt to stop the disease plaguing his body. Breath hitching, Wolfram spun to escape only to encounter a mirror.
"La, la…Be mine or you will dance…"
Wolfram's facial details had morphed into that of a painted portrait. No matter how lively and tangible it may present itself, there breathed the aura of falsity. His eyes could no longer widen and his lips conveyed themselves as two carefully painted petals.
"La…"
Succumbing to the illness, Wolfram crumbled to the surprisingly cushioned darkness, immobile save for his still conscious mind.
Miss Maiden's face was all he could see just as her eyes peered down at his state.
"…To the dark tune of His rhyme."
Grinning eyes set on Wolfram, Miss Maiden plunged the scissors into Wolfram.
-x-X-x-
"Wolfram?" Conrad asked, voice soft and non-provoking. "Is there anything wrong?"
With a lazy motion, Wolfram glided his eyes from the bed's top draperies to the brunette, who sat in a decorative seat near the bed. In an indifferent voice, Wolfram mumbled, "I'm fine."
The nightmare—no, the vision—that the flaxen haired boy had had the displeasure to experience when consciousness had threatened to retreat still remained freshly printed in his mind.
He had yet to express what he had envisioned and now he contemplated. In reflex, Wolfram sighed at the thought but it was quickly replaced by a bitter inhalation of air.
Conrad smiled lovingly. "Are the bandages too tight?" he asked and slid onto his feet. With cautious and gentle contact, Conrad began to peel back Wolfram's blankets.
Wolfram sat upright at an awkward angle and the blanket was quick to succumb to Conrad's hands. "H-Hey!" the blonde uttered, face flushing at the notion of having Conrad tending to his vulnerable state. "They're fine!"
The man raised a hand in defense when Wolfram slapped at it. "Please don't move so much, Wolfram. You'll aggravate your state and that will make His Majesty very sad."
As Conrad's hand stroked and adjusted the bandages, Wolfram's eyes fell. "Yuri…"
"Don't worry," Conrad reassured, now sitting on the bed to gain better access. "His Majesty will return in no time once he settles the political situation."
"He was very upset about leaving me," Wolfram replied, more to himself than his brother.
Conrad glanced up and offered, "Gunter demanded his presence and if it weren't for you pushing him, I doubt he would have gone."
Wolfram attempted a snort but his tired state betrayed the gesture. "That wimp is King of this place. He needs to attend to his duties and besides, I'm not in a dying state."
Finished with his inspection, Conrad slid the covers to Wolfram's chest in a fluid and kind motion. "Yes," he agreed. "We are all relieved at that."
Wolfram, for the briefest of seconds and despite the higher concentration of exhaustion, focused his eyes on Conrad. It was deemed that the blonde warrior be observed at all times for any sudden changes and Conrad became the best suitable candidate for the job. It was also partially due to Murata's suggestion but for what reason, no one had the time to ponder over.
Noticing Wolfram's stare, Conrad shut his eyes and smiled again. "Something you want to talk to me about?"
"…What happened to Lord Varick?" Wolfram inquired, eyes drifting back up.
Almost disappointed with the question, Conrad replied, "The particles of his body were gathered and placed in a jar for safekeeping."
"Oh."
Silence overtook their conversation like a pregnant pause. Both brothers suspected where the conversation would lead them yet neither managed to gather up the nerve to inquire on that subject.
Ultimately, the tension was sliced by Conrad's voice. "Wolfram, about M-"
"No!" Wolfram shouted back, almost in impulse. His hands shot up and pressed brutally against his eye sockets. "I don't want to!"
Struck with sudden shock and concern, Conrad responded by prying his brother's arms away from his face. "Wolfram, calm down."
"Why is this happening to me?" Wolfram half-sobbed, half-groaned, jerking his arms in Conrad's grip.
Unable to suffice Wolfram's demand with an answer, Conrad frowned but kept his eyes on his brother. "Is it…the same as before?" he asked in a soft voice as if fearful of the answer.
There was a sharp jumble of gold locks thrashing when Wolfram shook his head almost violently. "No," his quivering voice whispered. "Worse, I think…"
"Wolfram," Conrad murmured, his heart aching and his anxiety rising.
A moan ripped from Wolfram again and he, more carefully, dug his face into the safety of his hands. "Please….leave me…"
When Conrad made to sit closer to the blonde, Wolfram snapped, "Leave me be!"
Tears were taunting Wolfram's pride and Conrad sensed why the boy demanded solitude. However, Conrad deduced with a firm conscious that he would not submit to his brother's temper tantrum this time. "No, Wolfram."
Infuriated and insulted, Wolfram shot Conrad a deadly look.
Instead of retorting with a bite of his own, Conrad softened his face and sat near Wolfram. Despite of the blonde's weak protests, the soldier managed to tame his little brother by predicting his futile blows.
When his arms finally managed to engulf Wolfram in an embrace, Conrad desperately whispered, "I won't ever leave you again, Wolfram. Please…"
Stunned by prideful offense and uncertainty, Wolfram's mental defense's rattled. Although he would yet to verbally admit it, the child within him wept for assistance. For this pure moment, Wolfram drowned the smugness that had been indirectly beating what should have been cradled.
As his mind accepted the situation, his body did as well and he loosened in his brother's arms, finally accepting Conrad's plea.
"Y-You…fool," Wolfram insulted, though his bitterness was undetectable. Tears leaked and Wolfram succumbed to everything.
Wolfram's terror and pride escaped with each trickle of tears as he wept against the man's chest. As he rode through the crashing waves that let loose his emotions, Wolfram's hands unconsciously clawed into the neutral color of Conrad's uniform.
Conrad shut his eyes and murmured, "Oh, Wolfram. I'm so sorry."
It had been far too many years since Conrad had the privilege to settle Wolfram's trembling shoulders and fitful cries. In a desperate attempt to alleviate the stress that Conrad's touch could not heal, the man asked, "Shall we get rid of her?"
With a heavy sniff, Wolfram recalled his promise to Gwendel. A moment was taken to collect himself. "Y-Yes. She's in the closet of my room."
"I'll have it done, then," Conrad declared and squeezed Wolfram.
In a rapid snap, Wolfram's head peered up. "No! Don't…not alone."
Frowning, Conrad reminded his brother, "You need to recover before we move you."
Though tear stained, Wolfram's face constricted in determination. "I can make it until then and I lock my room with magic so you cannot enter."
Expression alleviated, Conrad said, "Are you sure?"
Wolfram lightly pried himself from Conrad and rubbed an arm. His eyes were cast down yet maintained their willpower as he suggested, "We must do it now. I don't…want to trouble Yuri or Brother. Heaven forbid if Mother finds out."
With a slight reluctance, Conrad sighed and nodded. He ached to embrace Wolfram once more but the boy's fulsome attitude had reconstructed itself. Wolfram had only misplaced his pride, not forgotten it.
"Alright," the brunette agreed quietly. "I'll get you some clothing."
-x-X-x-
Wolfram winced and clutched at his side. His back arched into a curve so that he slouched and every step he administered shocked his healing muscles. "Are you sure no one will see us?" the blonde rasped, guiding his way with the wall and Conrad's support.
With a hand curled around his brother's hip, Conrad whispered back, "Yes, the soldiers at the door were commanded to do a task at my order. We're nearly there."
Capturing the sight of his doors, Wolfram released a breath of air, "Thank goodness."
"How are you holding up?" Conrad inquired as they neared the intimidating doors, fusing with magical influence.
Wolfram grumbled, "Once I rid of her, I'll feel better."
Silence swept over them, pinning their throats tightly shut. Conrad aided Wolfram to the doors and with a rickety arm, the flaxen haired warrior stretched his hand. He steadied his hand as it hovered an inch from the wooden barrier and shut his eyes.
The magical authority thawed before melting its defenses. Lowering his hand, Wolfram nodded and Conrad understood the implication.
The taller of the two opened the doors.
Wolfram inhaled a bitter breath of air in response to the scene before him.
At the other end of the room a murky and obscure web suspended Yuri so that he hung limply against the wall like an ornament. The boy's hand that were secured above his head, thrashed upon catching the two.
"Mmmph!" Yuri's muffled voice cried out, his mouth roofed by the shifting and slithering substance.
"Yuri!" Wolfram screamed and when his body generated a response, a flash of stunning colors manifested, molding his doll.
Miss Maiden's eyes peeled off any lifeless distinctiveness and they brightened to advocate her thriving state. She stood at the midpoint between Yuri and his comrades, purposely blocking their intentions.
With an agitating twitch to her neck, the doors slammed shut and locked.
Conrad narrowed his eyes but his trepidation deceived him. "Miss Maiden," his voice spoke and as the words leaped over his lips, his mind processed that a doll stood, well alive, only mere feet away from him.
"I do not appreciate being handled by anyone besides my Prince."
Being the only competent individual to reply, Wolfram spat, "Let Yuri down now!"
"You got hurt. Such a foolish act to be moving. You're no use to me dead."
Miss Maiden's head lowered so that her eyes leveled onto Wolfram's mid-section. Shattering beneath her intent state, Wolfram clutched at his wound and shouted once more, "Let Yuri go! Do it!"
The doll only continued to stare.
Frustration pinched Wolfram and with a violent shake to his head he begged, "What do you want?! Why won't you leave?! Why won't you die?!"
"Why is he here?"
Conrad physically tensed when the icy eyes slid to him, their wide stare childish and unblinking. "You…You need to leave," was all he managed to muster up, never having the instructions on how to respond to a doll.
"Believe Prince now, don't you?" her innocent voice rang out though her lips remained stilly painted. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"
Drawing his sword, Conrad cleared his mind to battle a physical fight if the circumstances demanded it. "You must put down Yuri at once," he commanded, his voice regaining composure.
Miss Maiden's bored gaze did not alter.
"Please, Miss Maiden," Wolfram suddenly whispered, collapsing to his knees. Head bowed, the boy presented his pathetic state to the doll. "Do as you wish to me but leave Yuri alone…I beg of you…"
"You would submit your pride for this boy?"
Wolfram's knuckles paled as he clenched them in an unconscious attempt to defy the statement. "I…am too tired, Miss Maiden. Yuri must be protected," was all he replied, his voice blank like an enigma.
Miss Maiden tilted her head with another snap of her neck.
Yuri groaned and tugged more callously at the webs. "Mmmph!"
Swallowing, Conrad persisted, "Just tell us what you're after. Is it Wolfram?"
Silent, the magnificent doll maintained her stare. However, after an eerie silence, excluding Yuri's muffled struggles, Miss Maiden's voice said, "What if I were to tear off each of his nails and then break off his fingers, one by agonizingly one?."
With a suppressed cry, Yuri cried out as a portion of the murky substance ensnaring him morphed into a hand. It seized one of Yuri's arms with an immobilizing hold while another hand molded itself. It positioned itself over the outstretched fingers, prepared to peel their nails off.
"Mmph!"
"No!" Wolfram bellowed, "Don't!"
In the quickest of instance, Conrad's blade grazed the curve of Miss Maiden's well crafted porcelain neck. "Do it and your head will roll," the man gravely threatened.
Miss Maiden snapped her neck up. "Heehee…I see then."
"Explain yourself," Conrad pressed, sword unmoving. "What do you want? If I ask once more, I'll slice you."
"It has begun."
Miss Maiden's hand grasped the blade's shiny coat and with one easy clutch, shattered the metal into crumbling pieces, permitting them to pile to the floor like dust. Wolfram cried out as Conrad gasped in horror. Conrad made to pose an attack, fearing the doll's next move and his fist went hurling toward her face.
The fist was halted in mid air by unknown forces, hovering half an inch from the doll's face. Her eyes, still fixated on Conrad, twinkled and her drawn lips cracked. Gusts of dark wind swirled around her in a magnificent display of hidden supremacy as it pitched Conrad backward.
Her neatly covered feet floated off the floor and she flew high above them, implicating her superiority. Porcelain cracked and crumbled to satisfy her cruelly stretched grin. A cackle swam from within her, contrasting her typically naivety and her innocent exterior.
"Tomorrow will your kingdom become the stage. His personal doll house."
Yuri was released in one foul motion and Conrad was swift in catching his godson. "Are you alright?" he frantically asked, scanning the boy for any obvious wounds.
"Wolfram!" Yuri shouted, ignoring the inquiry and peeling Conrad from him. "Wolfram!"
Wolfram stared, terror stricken at his precious doll, "Who is 'he'?! Miss Maiden!"
Through fits of glee, the doll replied to her keeper, "The ballet, my Prince! We shall be set free from our duties and the roles of this world will reverse!"
Panic overwhelmed Wolfram and he screamed, "What have you done?! You swore to me you would nev-"
"You will lead us all into the most fabulous war that neither this nor any other world has seen!"
"You swore to me!" Wolfram shrieked, struggling to reach the doll.
Despite the frantic pleas, Miss Maiden continued, the black disease that once held Yuri spreading throughout the entirety of the room. "We will meet tomorrow, my Prince. How excited I am. Farewell, Prince."
As Miss Maiden's form vanished inch by inch, Wolfram's screams intensified to insanity's threshold. "No! No! NO! Why?!"
With the final word, his fists pummeled against the brutal tiles repeatedly and with noxious force. Each cry was accompanied by another slam of his hands and in retaliation, the hard surface bit and nipped at the boy's skin.
"Wolfram, stop!" Yuri demanded, snatching the wrists to prevent further damage. "It's okay, it's okay!"
Furious, Wolfram retorted with a scream, "No, it's NOT, okay!"
"What did Miss Maiden mean, Wolfram?" Conrad asked and if he had the moment to appreciate it, he would have admired Yuri's capability to toss aside his own fear and perplexity to aid Wolfram. "You seem to know what she's implying."
Exhaustion calmed Wolfram's passionate response. His mouth gaped open to intake large quantities of air but through them, he managed to rasp, "She…she told me things that would happen. Terrible and wicked things. They always came true. I don't…I don't know how."
Stroking the boy's hands while healing them, Yuri stared in wonder. "Wolfram, she's talked to you before?"
Conrad shut his eyes and agreed, "Yes but…"
"No one would believe me," Wolfram hissed, head rising to offer Yuri a disturbing expression.
"Wolfram," Yuri whispered and he sensed Conrad's guilt.
Hurling aside their pity, Wolfram added, "She sang to me at night a lullaby of a war that would occur, a kind of battle that all worlds will suffer simultaneously from."
"What…kind of war?" Yuri gently asked, his mind still failing to process the reality of their current situation.
Wolfram's face slackened and his eyes glazed over, as if the memory he consciously made to draw forth begged to remain repressed.
"My name is Miss Maiden…
She is the one to spark the war
Of the Ballet of Kings and Dolls
Where the King becomes the whore…"
A frightened smile quirked Wolfram's lips and he recalled the lullaby's ending.
"Her name is not Miss Maiden
But her story still claims threat
That Doll will kill his King
And Its mind It will forget…."
-x-X-x-
Murata glared upward at nothing of particularity in the confines of his lonely room.
He waited and was suffocating from ennui at this point in time. He suspected that the message would have been received by this point in time so he desired his guest to arrive.
Yet before he committed some shameless act to alleviate his boredom, a juvenile chuckle piqued his attention. "You seem content. What did you do?" he inquired, uncrossing his legs and trialling the doll's stiff jerks.
"My Prince understood the message. Surely he'll perform in the manner desired for both of us."
With a thin finger, Murata rubbed his temple. "So Shibuya and Lord Weller know about you?"
"Everyone will know what I want in due time."
"I see. What will you do until tomorrow evening?"
Miss Maiden's body halted when she settled upon the opposite seat, body comfortably situated. Though she did not smile, Murata sensed her glee.
"I will play with my Prince."
"Isn't that risky?" Murata asked, eyes narrowing.
With a twitch to her neck, Miss Maiden's voice said, "What you do is risky. You will sacrifice my Prince to save your King. It will sadden your King."
Shutting his eyes, Murata hummed in his contemplation. "Sacrifice is such a harsh term. I prefer to view it as…'weeding out the unnecessary'. Though it would be a terrible waste for such a beautiful individual."
"His beauty is a deadly matter in this but as long as I get what I want, I'll be content. I will get what I want."
With a curious look, Murata inquired, "What makes you so bold?"
Miss Maiden's eyes danced to their own tune of sickly delight.
"The raping of the mind ensures victory."
Sighing heavily, Murata acknowledged the comment. "Of course. I do not look forward to it but I think we've taken the necessary precautions. You sure you want me of all people to be doing this?"
"We have history together, do we not, Great Sage? You know my tales and you know much. You want to do this."
Murata smirked and shut his eyes to restrain the mixture of pity and amusement from revealing themselves. "Yes, I agree on that. I must admit something though."
"I'm listening."
"I believe you and he are to be the most terrifying foes this world has had the displeasure of battling," he confessed, staring at the doll with a smirk.
Miss Maiden's delight heightened. "As long as humans or demons exist, it exists. You all are the evil's life source. I'm just a pretty catalyst."
Nodding, Murata leaned to the small table separating them and grasped a glass and poured from the pitcher a crimson liquid. With a sniff to the juice, Murata glanced back at the doll.
"Such is the irony of this ballet predetermined once we came to existence, no?"
Miss Maiden's neck jerked in a concurring nod.
Murata chuckled and with a charming grin, he lifted the glass in a toast. "Well then," he declared, "to victory. Cheers."
"Cheers, my dearest rival."
-x-X-x-
His name is Prince Wolfram
He exists as my one thrill
Yet he has yet to learn
That such love often kills
My name is Miss Maiden
I imply truth in my laugh
Like where would be the doll
Where it not for the Doll Maker's craft?
-x-X-x-…TBC…-x-X-x-
Well, little by little, things are unraveling. I like twists though.
Note: I put three songs (youtube, no downloading needed) on my LJ to help those of you with the scenes intensity if you wish. Deathly Lullaby was used to write the first scene, Room of Angel was an overall general tune to write the rest, and Backward Opening was used for the dramatic scenes (i.e. Wolfram screaming at Miss Maiden).
Thank you so much to those of you who make me write this (that's you, reviewers)! Do let me know if you're interested for more, if you will. I highly appreciate it!
Thank you for reading,
Mirai Kurosaki