Crown of thorns, black hair,
Raven's dark, a deathly sigh

Drained 'til life's goodbye

As soon as she stepped into the Palace, Satsuki accepted that she would no longer see the outside world. She has been trained since she was seven. Too young to be a Dancer, but old enough to learn. She would sit there and train until her fingers hurt and her arms felt like they were melting. Even as the moon climbed high and the stars wheeled overhead, Satsuki danced on, lost in her devotion.

It was something her parents had encouraged her to do; it was something she needed to do to reassure them about her future.

No one had warned her that she'd be asked to remove all of her clothes and have her womanhood examined. Of course, who would tell them that? Would the parents of the Dancers have accepted the Palace's offer if the handlers had been truthful from the beginning?

Her parents certainly would. She hasn't seen them in years, but she knows they would have sold her for anything. And who could blame them? Their isolated town, tucked away from civilisation, has only ever known hardship and scarcity. In a world without rigid hierarchies, her family might have been considered prosperous. But there, where merchants are viewed as little more than dust beneath noble boots, they are left to scrape for crumbs of dignity.

Despite its lack of wealth, the village has the most beautiful scenery. It is located in a valley overlooking a waterfall. Watching the stars or even the moon at night can be breathtaking. Additionally, there is never an idle moment. They love gathering under the large oak tree and creating songs on the spot. It's a tradition that has been passed down from generation to generation.

On a small forested hill, is a wooden house where she lived with her parents. The trees surrounding the hill are tall and covered in thick green leaves that glisten when they reflect sunlight.

Her father could be dead by now. The last time she saw him, he was heaving and panting even though he'd done nothing all day but sit and stare at nothing. He had a hand on his mouth, where the blood seeped from beneath the fingers. Her mother was there then, but in Satsuki's memory, she looked more like a ghost than anything else. Between his laboured breathing and her own heart pounding against her ribs, her mother uttered how much she wished to escape.

"This world will make even the most selfless selfish," the girl of her dreams once said. As much as Satsuki abhors those words, Kaori was right. No matter how many times she tries to convince herself that she's doing this for her family, who never bother to write to her, somehow, the truth always comes out: she never attempted to run away because, in her mind, being the King's Dancer is far better than staying as the daughter of a poor merchant. She now bears a last name, something she'd never had. Satsuki isn't even her birth name, but does it even matter now? She is Satsuki of the Momoi House, and that is that.

Nevertheless, she will never forget what Haizaki did to her. He was rough, had no mercy, and was a bit too eager to search inside her. At that moment, she wished she had her old life back. It's strange how a single moment of rough treatment could do that to her.

Until someone—a boy named Kuroko Tetsuya—saved her. He had quietly observed that Satsuki had a silly thought that he was a statue with elaborate eyes. Apart from preventing Haizaki from mishandling her and treating her gently, he didn't do much. But that meant a lot to her.

It still does.

Rain drums its fingers on the window pane, bringing her back to where she is now: in her chamber. Normally, a new Dancer such as her would be sharing a chamber with at least five other Dancers, but since the king fancies her, she was given her place to sleep in. The whispering, the sneers, the snorts that nobody even tried to hide from her—she'd ignored them all, even though it hurt her so much. She had this naive desire to make friends with them, to combat the loneliness that had followed her since she learnt to walk.

The heavy, grey curtains are drawn over the open window, revealing only the dull sky, dark with the promise of thunder. Outside, the wind howls and the rain pours like tiny stones. A few drops fall into her lap, soaking through the fabric and freezing the floor beneath her.

It was also raining when I embraced her, she thinks. She was with Kaori during a storm. They were near the sea. The morning winds had spit furious rain in their direction, but it didn't seem to bother Kaori. She just kept running with her head held high as the wind whipped around her hair. Her hair. The same black, raven locks that seemed to stick together despite her best efforts to brush them away from her face.

Satsuki was afraid that they would trip or graze their skin as they ran through fanged rocks. The danger had only intensified their exuberance as they watched the sea rise, toying with the anchored ships. The fear of not being secure enough or of falling and never getting back up was extremely frightening. But she was with Kaori, and she had put her life in her hands. It was like a dream come true, but one Satsuki could never have in her life.

They were supposed to be practising with the other Dancers, but Kaori had a sudden idea to escape for a while and take in the rain for a moment. "We may never get the chance to see the beauty of a storm," she'd said, and that was what had convinced Satsuki, even though her heart continued to pound and told her this was wrong.

The cliff hovered over them as if it were alive, watching them as they linked their fingers with so much tenderness that Satsuki thought she was drowning in Kaori's warmth. The sky was so dark, and yet the girl in front of her, who was pulling her hand, shone so bright.

She became the sunbeam, sparkling, dancing, and beaming with joy as she went through the rocky terrain with her hair flowing behind her. It seemed almost unreal. Satsuki didn't dare look away from the radiance before her. Her heart was beating out a wild rhythm. She couldn't understand how she got here or how Kaori could be so stunning. But she couldn't look away, couldn't pull away from the feeling.

Kaori drew Satsuki closer, their hands still connected, and leaned up, pressing her lips against hers.

As the waves crashed against the rocks and stones on the beach, the sea lapped gently around them. There wasn't a breath of wind, yet the water danced between them, as though alive with the intensity of their connection. A distant bird's call echoed above, its melody hauntingly beautiful. Satsuki closed her eyes, letting the moment envelop her completely.

"We will never have this much rain in the coming years, I am told," Kaori said as she pulled away, panting and smiling. She then raised and tipped her head, allowing the rain to fall down her throat. As she did that, Satsuki noticed how they'd stopped near a waterfall. She almost pointed out that the water coming from the fall was fresher and must taste better, but it soon dawned on her that it wasn't what Kaori was seeking.

It was the choice. The freedom to feel the rain for the first and last time.

Satsuki smiled. Kaori was so beautiful, so carefree, so lovely. She was the light of her life, the one who ended the drought in her life; the rose without thorns that bloomed in the desert. She'd written all of those magical feelings as a poem.

The next time Satsuki met Kaori, her flesh was brittle and cracked. Her lips had turned as dark as the sky that had brought joy to them. On her head was a mock crown made of roses with thorns. The blood that had run down from her scalp to her face had caked and seemed embedded in her skin. Her skin was so paper-thin that the veins were too visible. Satsuki wasn't knowledgeable about wounds, but she knew by then that all of her blood had been drained.

With a trembling voice, she asked her handler what had happened and why it had happened.

"It is simple, dear child of mine. She had attempted to flee. Now, we would normally let it go and give her a warning, but since she'd also tried to abduct you, we knew her presence would endanger not just you but anyone who would dare to look at her. We must get rid of any impurities. Do you understand?"

She did, so she nodded as tears streamed down faster than the beautiful waterfall they'd seen.

My fault, my fault...the loud voice tells her as she tries to get rid of that memory. Please, please...stop raining. Kaori had thought there would be no rain for many years. Was that not the reason why she'd tried to feel it for the first and last time? Now that she's in the Palace, she's discovered that it always does rain in the Red Lion Kingdom. If only Kaori had waited a little longer; if only Satsuki had denied her request-

Please, stop raining.

☁️

What am I needed for here? Satsuki asks herself as she waits for the Crown Prince to speak. An hour ago, she was awoken by a guard and was told that Akashi Seijuro had asked for her presence. As she passed by the other Dancers, they once again, whispered about her.

They must have thought that His Highness had developed a fondness for her as well, and if that were the case, it would be unfair to the rest of them. Truth be told, she'd rather not stand out, but ever since she was little, people have been noticing how perfect and ethereal her features are. Soon, the king will claim her. So why, then, is she here in the throne room with no one but the Crown Prince only?

Instead of the usual long table, a small one separates them. They are quite close, so close that she can see the soft lines around his eyes. He looks young, apt for his age, but he is ageing far more quickly than he should be given his responsibilities as the country's next leader. Nevertheless, he still exudes a youthful aura.

Even from where he is sitting, she can easily sense that much of this comes from his natural grace and composure. His eyes are full of mirth and lightness, his mouth is curled in a pleased smile, and his hands hold a delicate teacup.

Today, he wears light crimson silk. The fabric accentuates his most striking feature—eyes as red as fresh-spilled blood. It is taboo to speak of the royal lineage, so Satsuki has never dared inquire about the source of this trait, passed down from the first King Akashi. Like flawlessly cut rubies, those eyes witnessed a millennium of both tragedy and triumph.

"Would you fancy some feast?" is the first thing the Crown Prince says after a long period of assessment.

As much as she wants to end this as soon as possible—people will talk, something she doesn't need—she has no choice but to be accommodating. "To bask in your presence is already a great honour, Your Highness," she says with a sweet smile she has perfected.

"I didn't ask if I should honour you. I asked if you would like something to eat," the Crown Prince says so suddenly and so directly that Satsuki's tongue retracts by itself. She swallows, remembering all the lessons she's memorised.

"Your Highness—"

"Do not fear me, I ask of you. Forget every lesson you've learnt and speak to me like a friend. Would it be selfish of me to ask for that?" On the Crown Prince's padded left glove, the roaring red lion directly stares at her with its fierce yet quite dead eyes. He must have noticed her stare, as he covers it with the sleeve of his robe. "I understand the abruptness of this meeting, and I know tongues will wag. But the doors stand open, and any may enter at will. Whatever whispers arise between us will swiftly wither, for my Father abhors such baseless conjecture."

Under the table, Satsuki flattens her feet on the floor. Although she may not be very familiar with King Akashi Masaomi, the Crown Prince has spoken the truth. He is objective and doesn't base judgements on mere whispers. The only thing that could push his patience to the edge is if someone tries to run away from the Palace. For within these walls, from the lowliest scullery maid to the most exalted lord, all possess fragments of knowledge. And in the grand game of power, every scrap of information, no matter how trivial, is as precious as the rarest gem.

"I understand, Your Highness," she says, letting her face look sad. "You must be feeling quite lonely these days now that half our Dancers have gone to the South."

"That is right. It can be lonely here, given how big this place is. Do you know how it feels to be surrounded by thousands of people but unable to engage with them due to your status?"

That catches her off guard. She wasn't anticipating the Crown Prince's early disclosure of his feelings. Usually, a person with high status will start the conversation with poetic eloquence. But she guesses the Crown Prince is indeed lonely. It's best to approach this carefully.

"I do, but if you'd permit me, I do not think it is comparable to your loneliness, Your Highness."

Akashi Seijuro nods, heaving a soft sigh. "I do have a favoured Dancer, much like Father. His name is Kuroko Tetsuya. Have you heard of him?"

The sound of the name washes over her uneasiness. Kuroko Tetsuya's last name alone befits him: a beauty spot. A mole is normally seen as something that a Dancer shouldn't have. It distracts the looker from focusing on the Dancer. But Kuroko's beauty spot near his neck enhances the allure he holds. The way his hair curls around it, the way his skin tints like the sun but remains so pale, the way his lips curl upward but he never truly smiles. It's enough to pique her interest. She wants to see more. She has met him only twice, but she has a feeling that he goes against the flow.

For why would a Dancer, expected to embody perfection itself, willingly display a mark that shatters the illusion of flawlessness?

"I had the opportunity to speak with him twice, Your Highness."

The Crown Prince's eyes brighten, and a sudden burst of energy sparkles in them. "He is something, isn't he?"

She nods, smiling softly. "He is, Your Highness. He showed me great kindness when— " She purses her lips, wondering if she should continue.

"Yes?"

"My apologies, but I do not think it is quite a pleasant story to hear."

"Friends do share sad tales, don't they?" Friends. Such a heavy, meaningless word in the Palace. His tone, however, is tinted with melancholy and a hint of desperation. He must be truly longing for Kuroko. The way his voice breaks makes him sound like he's on the verge of tears, yet his eyes remain dry. A true king in the making, that he is.

After a quiet hum, she says, "My apologies once again. Dancer Kuroko Tetsuya protected me from another Dancer. He treated me well, and when we spoke for the last time, he entrusted me with someone's company. I find it somewhat odd that he trusted me that much."

"It's not surprising, given how he is a pariah. Do you know why he has distanced himself from everyone?"

"Perhaps I had best guess honestly." She dips her head, the ornaments attached to her hairpin clinking together as she does so. "Does it have anything to do with his blue eyes and white hair?"

"Yes, they say he is the offspring of a blue-eyed demon. Although those who have bartered with the far westerners have seen how normal they are. Humans, however, mislike those who do not look like them. It's their loss. They have failed to look past their judgement."

"I do agree, Your Highness."

"Now, tell me, what did my Dancer tell you the last time the two of you had a talk? I presume you were the last person in the Palace with whom he'd spoken."

Akashi Seijuro attempts to hide it, and he almost succeeds, but Satsuki can clearly hear the possession in his voice. Well, that is only natural, isn't it? He is a royal, born and raised to think that he owns everyone, from the lowliest servant to the stars themselves.

Seeing she has no choice but to tell the truth, Satsuki tells him Kuroko's request. "I must make sure Lord Chen isn't lonely. That is all he said to me." But she isn't as stupid as people want to think of her. She knew, even then, that Kuroko had an underlying message. Lord Chen's life could be in danger, and she was the only one he could trust.

The real question though is, how is she, a mere woman in a world ruled by men, supposed to protect the Minister of Rice Production?

"He must have told you to protect him," the Crown Prince says.

She gasps. The way Akashi Seijuro has spoken leaves her no room to deny his guess. "H-how d-did-"

He waves his hand dismissively. "I know Tetsuya well. He piqued my interest when he told me how worried he was about you on your first night here."

She lowers her head, contemplating every word he's said. She truly is a novice when it comes to how the Palace works. It only takes one glance, one word, and one moment for two people to figure out how to play the game.

When she lifts her head, she understands it again in a second. She's the pawn in these two's games, whether she likes it so or not. Would it be wise for her to approach the king and beg for his protection? He's objective; she has thought of him, but he's still the man who lops off servants' heads without a second thought.

The best thing to do is to play along and see why she's been caught in this situation in the blink of an eye. No. Had Kuroko planned all of this from the very start? Was that why he was so kind to her? Or what if it's just the Crown Prince, and he saw the opportunity?

"I can see that you have many thoughts right now. Perhaps I have said it too harshly. Do not worry; you are not a pawn in any game. Tetsuya simply cares a lot about Lord Chen, for the minister has taken care of him for many years. The only thing you have to do is report to me how the Lord is faring."

"Your Highness, I'm not convinced I'm the right person for this task," she says, her heart thumping in her ears. She wonders if he can hear it as well.

"But you are. Until you, Father had never taken a Dancer. Do you know what it means?"

She shakes her head, unable to trust her voice to remain steady.

"It could mean that, if ever, you could be my father's second wife. You would be the new queen. You would be my new mother. Now, why would I dare to use my future mother against my father? Doesn't seem quite clever, is it?"

🥀

Shigehiro dives into the grass, his bare feet sliding across the soft earth, his exposed hands scraping against jagged pebbles. His blood rattles in his head as he tries to see what is ahead of him, but it's impossible with how his vision is so clouded.

They're all around him; he knows. He can sense them moving among the woods and hear them calling his name.

Shigehiro looks up and sees the trees swaying above him like an ocean wave. He feels himself floating along with the wind.

He tumbles backwards. The forest floor rises to meet him—a carpet of dirt, twigs, and leaves that sting his skin like a thousand tiny needles. And then... and then...

Oblivion claims him.

Shigehiro jerks awake, the nightmare's tendrils still clinging to his consciousness. But this isn't just a dream; it's a memory, a moment that nearly killed him. Reality snaps into focus: He's in a cell, nursed back to health.

Although he doesn't remember much, he does recall that the Crown Prince visited him once and asked how he was faring. It was as though he'd rehearsed it for hours and yet still failed to deliver it.

Kagami is an odd man. Or a boy. He is tall with a huge, broad frame and a perpetual frown on his face, making it difficult to discern his age. Half of it is covered in a golden mask, for which reason he is too afraid to ask. Back in the North, it is prohibited for any of them to talk about the Akashis's red eyes, and so he is applying the same rule here, even though no one has told him. All Shigehiro knows is that when Kagami Taiga regarded him, he almost gasped at how red the Crown Prince's eye was too. Red, yes, but a far cry from Crown Prince Akashi Seijuro's piercing gaze. Kagami's eye is warm and murky, like dried blood. It lacks the black ring encircling the vertical pupils of an Akashi man.

Aside from their eyes, the two crown princes are as different as a star and a firefly. Anyone who sees Akashi Seijuro can tell that he was born to rule, whereas Kagami Taiga, no matter how big he is, has a light dimmer than a guttering candle. If the two princes were to stand before a crowd right now, the Lion Prince would devour his presence.

A thick stream of light filters through the closed window, as if begging to be let in and shower him in all its glory. Shigehiro wishes to see the moon, but his mind is too foggy to prepare a prayer. He can't believe he's been imprisoned yet again.

Though not as dark as the one he had in their Palace, it does nothing to put him at ease, much like when he has been reassured that he will receive no punishment as long as he is in their kingdom. There is no telling when the wind will change.

He lowers his gaze to the book on his lap. Has it been an hour since he started reading? No matter what he does, no words leave any impact on him. All he can concentrate on is the detailed, hand-painted landscapes of the gods and their messengers. Much like in their kingdom, the South has sub-deities. Unlike the Empire's six primary gods, these sub-deities have specific, minor roles. One of them is Laya, the god of rice harvesting. Since his family are farmers, Shigehiro wonders if he should pray to Laya, or if that will upset Kang'e and the other cardinal gods.

"This is pointless," he mutters, snapping the book shut with unexpected force. The sound echoes in the quiet chamber, startling him. Is he becoming impetuous, quick to anger like the woman who bore him? He shakes his head. As much as he loves that woman, he never wants to be like her. She's kind, at least how he remembers her, but she has a temper that nearly destroyed their entire family. No. He will never be his mother.

His mind is preoccupied with useless thoughts when the door to his cell swings open. With years of experience in the Palace, Shigehiro stands at once. It is quite dark outside, with flames dancing off the torches mounted atop the walls, casting several shadows, and one of them is Kuroko Tetsuya.

He is torn between wanting to greet his brother and remaining still as he gazes into those blue eyes. They're so deep, they seem bottomless. For a few seconds, he doesn't move, simply drinking in all that he sees. Have they been separated for so long that he has forgotten what Kuroko Tetsuya looks like? No, it hasn't, but it feels like it has been years. He doesn't want to get used to it.

"Brother?" he says, inhaling a sharp breath as the Dancer steps forward, regarding him with that signature smile that is only meant for him.

"Have you waited for long?" Kuroko asks calmly. How could he? Shigehiro had several thoughts about Kuroko dying at the hands of the pirates, none of which were pleasant. The more he envisioned them, the more he broke down on the inside.

So, with tears rushing down his face, Shigehiro pulls his brother to him and envelops him in his arms. The embrace is tight; he can tell by how hard Kuroko tries to breathe through his mouth, but he cannot let go. His knees have turned to water, threatening to give way beneath the tide of emotion that crashes over him.

"Ogiwara," Kuroko says, his voice muffled against Shigehiro's chest, "I am also so glad to see you, but I need air, please."

Laughing, Shigehiro finally pulls back, his fingers tracing his brother's face, remembering every detail.

"My apologies. My heart simply cannot stop beating at the sight of you. Every night, I prayed for your return. I dreamt for us to be united once again." His thumb strokes Kuroko's cheek. In the Palace, he is not permitted to touch the Dancer, so they always engage in physical affection in secret.

It doesn't matter if everyone knows that they are sworn brothers. The Dancers belong to King Akashi Masaomi, and so only he could touch them.

He muses in the back of his mind if the same law holds true in this kingdom. He should stop now before finding out, but he cannot think. Thousands of emotions are drowning his rationality.

"The Crown Prince... have you met him? His Highness is here with me. Have you given your thanks yet?" Kuroko asks, his face turned away from the guards, and at once Shigehiro understands what his brother truly means: "Have you heard anything from the North?"

"Yes, I have given him my thanks. He and his men had saved me," he answers with a tinge of solemnity. "No, I am sorry."

For a moment, Kuroko's shoulders slump, and his face is defeated. And yet, as Kagami Taiga joins them, he regains his grace, his back straight with dignity and an unreadable expression.

The Crown Prince puts their testimony to the test for the remainder of the evening as he brings them to the court where the other Dancers have been gathered. Mibuchi Reo's mouth opens wide when he meets Kuroko Tetsuya again. They all believed he had been slain by the pirates. Shigehiro is tempted to ask if they had even prayed for his safety, but should he?

The handler's eyes grow dark as he focuses on Shigehiro. Inside, he is recoiling, remembering how Alon's men had chased him down as soon as he jumped off the ship. Kuroko observes them and, without saying a word, steps in front of him, shielding him from the sight of the handler. Although it isn't much given the Dancer's small stature, Shigehiro still cannot help but smile, even a little.

It soon vanishes as the handler subtly sneers, and with the finesse he has mastered over the years, he says, "It would do well if we knew how pure Kuroko Tetsuya's skin is, Your Highness."

"I have little knowledge of your customs, I'm afraid, so you need to elaborate on the meaning of your words, Mibuchi," Kagami Taiga answers, although Shigehiro can tell that he at least has an ounce of understanding of what is about to happen.

Gently, gingerly, Shigehiro whispers to Kuroko, "You need not do this."

Kuroko stays still and doesn't respond.

"I, Mibuchi Reo, with the other Dancers, humbly request for Kuroko Tetsuya to remove his clothes and show us how pure his skin is, as it is required for a Dancer to have a perfect one. If not, he shall be detained until he is healed of any wounds he has sustained from the hands of the pirates." Behind the handler, he notices Haizaki Shougo grinning as if he has won a grant prize.

This isn't about Kuroko and the need for him to be perfect. This is about him, Shigehiro, and their need to punish him for what he did and said to Mibuchi. If Kuroko has sustained any single flaw, he will be punished and may never be allowed to return home.

The Crown Prince stares at his brother, his eyebrow scrunched as he ponders what he shall do. "What say you, Kuroko? "

Silence answers them all at first that Shigehiro is about to kneel and beg for his punishment when at last, the Dancer opens his mouth and says, "Do what is need to be done, that is my duty." He takes a deep breath, and after releasing it, a small smile adorns his lips. "However, if a flaw isn't seen, I would like to take Haizaki Shougo's position as the second-in-command of the Dancers." He's still smiling as his gaze follows Haizaki, and with how he looks at him, everyone can see that Haizaki's fate has already been sealed.