Never Green | ONC 2023

one - connection of souls

Feath is a good dancer, but he can tell there is no passion in the way she takes in the music. She doesn't let it fill every fibre of her being, allowing it to carry her past its physical restrictions. Her lackluster pulls on his ability to enjoy the dance; it becomes a chore. Not that matters, really. It isn't his duty to enjoy this side of being a prince of Kadotaru. His fate is decided, and this is one of his last moments of pure freedom.

When the Waltz ends, Feath excuses herself with a pretty smile, her ears folding back against the fluff of her hair. He closes his eyes, trying to feel for the music around him. Instead, a pair of hands wrap around his forearm. 

"Prince Aramis."

This time, it is his fellow guardsman, Hellion. She is dressed in the usual uniform, but her blonde hair supports a silver circlet for the celebrations. Her dark purple skin draws him back to reality, remembering his family. 

"The King requests your presence."

His stomach sinks. "What has happened?"

She shakes her head. "I do not know. Vēnātrīx is there with him. Something or someone might have breached the castle, but I truly do not know."

"Okay." He nods, allowing her to lead him from the dance floor. "Where is Ēnsiger? I would have half expected you two to have snuck off to at least steal your own dance by now."

The guardswoman sneaks a smile over her shoulder but stays silent. This makes him smile once again as they move through the crowd. The next song starts, creatures moving across the floor of the ballroom, taking new partners with intoxicating smiles and laughter that blossoms from the chest. 

Just one more dance, his heart begs, his body listening. Aramis forces himself forward, keeping his eyes locked on Hellion's blonde braid. He almost stumbles past her when she stops at the side of the ballroom. She nods, motioning Aramis to look into the shadows, the dark.

King Malefic waits there, his black cape cascading down onto the floor. His skin is darker than Hellion's, the green helping him camouflage against the leaves sprouting from the walls. Vēnātrīx stands beside him, her feline features sharp and twisted, slit pupils watching as he approaches.

"Father." He bows to Malefic. "Captain," he adds, repeating the same movement in Vēnātrīx's direction. "What is this?"

"Vaxalan has decided to test his fate tonight," Malefic says, his voice so cold that Aramis tries to make himself stand straighter than he already is. "He is your responsibility, Aramis," he hisses, before glancing to Vēnātrīx. "This is why I did not wish to grant him a night of freedom."

"I will find him, Father," Aramis speaks before Vēnātrīx can tear him down. 

Malefic turns his gaze back to him, black orbs boring into him. It takes everything in him not to shrivel. "You are too weak for the crown, son. Find your future king, lest you bring the burden to your sisters. It will be on you when your sisters bleed over the thistle thrones."

The prince doesn't wait any longer, turning back to the crowd and pushing himself through. He can see it, exactly what Malefic said. And it haunts him as much as the idea of being the next Duahlin, the Royal Captain, does. 

Somewhere in the crowd, one of the princesses calls to him, beckoning him with a sweet smile of innocence. He can only muster a strained smile, turning away from her as he makes his way out of the ballroom. Unlike the King and his Duahlin, Aramis knows exactly where the crown prince is, where he always goes.  

The Prince doesn't call for his fellow guardsmen that usually trail behind him on any mission. Part of being the next Duahlin gives you a say over where the guards do and don't go. Vēnātrīx still has say over him, and would have most likely headed Malefic's words in making Aramis to this on his own, but he doesn't need them, anyway. 

On the west side of the castle, the magic is strongest. Despite being in a castle of nature, the gems that line every wall glow a faint silver, feigning more towards a grey tinge. Their light grows brighter the further he retreats to the west side. They lead him to a closed off room, black roots knotted across the door. They move at his command, allowing him to enter the room. 

Instantly, the room glows brighter than the hallways, the silver light almost blinding his eyes. But the fact that they are even glowing gives Aramis all the information he needs. Vaxalan has been here. The gems look like nothing more than grey stones when they are dormant or dead, the magic they hold long gone or asleep. But here, they are far from that. Aramis sighs, a sinking feeling falling in his stomach. 

"What have you done now, Vaxalan?" he mutters to himself, turning to the farthest wall, where the gems form an archway. As he feared, the portal to the human realm hums with activity, beckoning the second prince forward. Not that they need to do much convincing. He needs to step through it either way. 

Patting himself down, he discards his weapons to the table sitting on the side of the room. The portal is famous for turning blades on their carriers when they step between realms. Kadotaru learnt the hard way when a prince wound up dead. 

Aramis takes one last deep breath before reaching out to touch the portal. At first contact, he feels himself being pulled. Discolouration and sickness erupts through him for an excruciating second before he comes out the other side, too dizzy to catch himself before he falls into the dirt and stone of a human cave. Coughing up the inside of his stomach, Aramis pushes himself to his feet, waiting for the world to stop spinning before he makes his way out of the cave. 

Then he sees it, the start of the human village that founded itself years after the portal was created. But what surrounds him is much more beautiful. Thousands and thousands of white lycoris, a human flower. Its petals rise and fall in a ball, looking like millions of soft white legs. The ground is covered in them, spreading towards the village. He used to come here much more often to sit among the lycoris, back when it was easier to escape his father's watchful eye. The forest floor used to only grow grass and moss. But after one miraculous night, a few bloomed for him, and then thousands followed.

Unlike Kadotaru, the sun shines softly between the trees, wind dancing with the leaves and the flowers. Aramis smiles. Even the flowers understand what it is to dance, the beauty behind it. 

A cry cuts out through the night, causing everything in Aramis to come to attention. Ripping his gaze up from the flowers, his long pointed ears twitch, finding the trace of the sound like he can see it. He scans the trees for any humans, and begins to walk. Not that the humans can see him, anyway. One of his ancestors took that privilege from them way before this village came into existence. 

Aramis found his older brother instantly, spooking a poor village girl in broad daylight, pulling at her clothing, hair, and using magic to make the contents of her basket tip out onto the ground. She looks terrified.

"Vaxalan!" he shouts, and he instantly stops tormenting the girl. 

He gives a sheepish grin, his ballroom clothing looking foolish. "Hello, brother."

Aramis takes him by the arm, pulling him back into the dark of the forest. "You shouldn't be here," he hisses, pushing him into the trees.

The heir rolls his eyes. "You cannot lecture me on escaping, brother. These are our last nights of freedom."

"You have no right to speak of freedom. But we must get back before Father has our heads."

Slumping his shoulders, he takes towards the cave.

Aramis glances back, making sure the girl is unharmed. Instead, he meets a different human girl, who holds the distressed one in her arms, eye to eye, like she actually sees him. A chill falls down his spine, but he quickly follows Vaxalan.