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milky-aeons · 1 month

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊

a/n: i wrote this story during a very tough time of my life, and reading back over it brings me so much bittersweet joy. i hope you guys enjoy chapter three!

warnings: female reader, sexual content, toxic!dazai, mentions of misogyny, mdni, w.c 7.5k

౨ৎ . . . chapter THREE of CROWNS OF STARDUST

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗. — Pablo Neruda

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄. Needlessly. After Doctor Yosano had seen to the last maid, who was white in the face with fear and confusion at everyone else's reactions to being checked over, each woman was sent to the servant's bathing area.

Two girls who were unfortunate enough to be the first the Head Maid seen to were plastered up against the side of the huge bath. Steam rose in heavy clouds, curling their hair and warming their bones, but nothing could stop them from visibly shaking with trauma.

"[N-Name]," One of them chattered. "Was it the General Practioneer of Yo we were seen by or a worker of the Devil?"

You swallowed beside Naomi, attempting to force your fright to relax. It made your spirit rebel — how a Court Official had this much of an effect on you. But that woman, the Head of all Maids, was no regular Court Official.

"Let us hope..." You said in a quiet whisper. "Let us hope that we do not run into medical troubles while we're here."

Naomi gave a curt nod. "Lets."

At least you weren't totally alone in your terror — every single woman in the baths seemed to have a similar reaction. The heat did nothing to tame the violent shivers breaking across their skin after a medical examination by Doctor Yosano Akiko. Each of them were checked over for any obvious diseases and given a necessary smallpox injection to protect the Royals if it was true they hadn't been vaccinated before. Which, coming from a commoner's background, it was likely they had not.

Whatever other examinations apart from those, you believed, was unique to each and every one of you. And just as terrifying.

It was obvious that now; every training maid of the Yo Palace would think twice about overstepping boundaries. Not when they witnessed just how easily the Head Maid handled a silver scalpel, or the smile on her face as she did so.

"When you were being checked over," Naomi whispered in a small, shaky tone. "Did she—?"

"I think it best not to speak of it." You shot her down. Apparently, the Head Maid had left lasting fear in her recruits that would follow them throughout their time in the palace. And, perhaps a lifetime. "If she is a worker of the Devil, then recounting her actions will only bring about misfortune."

Naomi made a small squeak followed by a rush of water when she slapped a hand to her mouth.

You were beginning to think that simply surviving Palace Life would be a lot harder than you thought, and not at all because of your habitual loose tongue.

"Are you aware of your duty?"

Even though it was not the Captain of the Ko Cavalry asking her the question when the King had assigned him with this task, the severity of it was no less. If she could offer some input, hearing such a question from this man made her wish to be successful even more. Although maybe that was a matter of her heart.

"I am." The blond Spy-woman answered. Dressed to pose a Yo Maid, she wore colours of white and black with a blue ribbon tying her hair securely. Standard servant attire for the Castle of Yo. How these two members of the Ko Court knew as such would be down to the man she was speaking to

Dressed in nothing but black save for the white tips in his hair, he commanded every Spy in the Ko Kingdom as a Spy-Master. His duty was to collect and listen to secrets. And occasionally reprimand those who choose unwisely not to provide them.

"Tell me again what your orders are." He asked her in that smooth, toneless voice.

The Spy-woman steeled her spine. Like an automated machine, she spoke the words; "I am due to arrive at Yo as a servant woman. My duty is to infiltrate the Castle and confirm if Yo really is struggling financially due to a rumoured drought. Once I affirm this, I am to return. Without being caught or discovered."

The deep grey eyes of the Spy-Master, akin to thunderclouds in a vicious storm, regarded his subordinate for a moment. She had a bright and intelligent crimson gaze, fair skin and a neat cut of blonde hair she trained into a knot. If he was an average man of the Court, he would surely be of the popular opinion that Higuchi Ichiyou was a rare beauty. Unfortunately, Ko's Spy-master was nothing but a hollow husk of a man that did nothing but obey what his King asked of him.

It was why he was so good at his job.

It also enabled him to say such unemotional, practical words to his most enthusiastic of subordinates.

"Prove that your useful, Higuchi. If you are caught and executed, then that will be all you were worth."

Higuchi was a trained Spy of the Ko Court, honed like a steel blade and fierce in her work. Although she was a young woman with a huge secret no Spy-woman should have. And it was that secret that allowed the words of her Commander to turn into icicles and pierce her heart. But being a Spy-woman came with the perks of hiding inner-pain, so she simply nodded her head and quietly memorised his pale face and large, dark eyes so she could visit them in her dreams a Kingdom away.

"I will be successful," She assured. "Akutagawa-senpai."

There were three ruling Kingdoms in this mythical land. Each Kingdom decided upon their own colours; Yo preferred neutral colours of blue and white, Ko was obnoxious in their affairs with shady black and reds decorating their hallways. Hama was the largest and most influential Kingdom of all and took a lavish liking to gold and gentle pinks. Together, the Yo-Ko-Hama country was a melting pot of colours and interests to anyone wishing to visit.

You did an experimental twirl in a cracked mirror stationed above your bunk. After the baths, the maids were dried and each given a designated bed inside a drab sleeping chamber with little light and life. Not that you particularly minded, as to your right was, miraculously, Naomi's bed. Your luck was looking up somewhat, you had thought with a sigh upon hearing the news.

The girl was dressed in the same uniform as you, although she was somewhat more ecstatic.

"Oh, [Name]!" Naomi gushed. She took the black skirts up in her grasp and twirled it as you would a ballroom dress. "Isn't it wonderful?"

You pursed your lips and turned back to the mirror. Caked in dust and not at all what you'd expect from Royals, but at the same time, would in a commoner's sleeping room, you inspected your own reflection.

Placing your ongoing spat with the monarchs that ruled over you all aside, you could admit that the Seamstress had a magic touch for fittings.

The basic black dress that collared at the neck and reached just above your ankles was not too heavy nor scratchy, like you had imagined. In hindsight, it was rather comfortable. Paired with the simple white apron typical to maid-wear and the blue ribbon tying your hair back, you could admire that you looked the part of a working woman.

Just not in the job she wished to be in, the thought came to you with a sinking feeling. You found some happiness in Naomi's glee, though. Who had abandoned spinning like a dancer and was attempting to tie the ribbon in her hair. It was with little success.

"Here," You said with a small laugh. Naomi immediately yielded and passed the blue silk over to you.

"It is not as easy as it looks." She muttered with a pout.

"No, it is not."

"Says you! Your bow is perfect."

Stationed in front of Naomi's mirror which was a little cleaner than your own, you carded your fingers through the long tresses. They came easily into a half-up hairdo, making the delicate features of her face more prominent. You smiled at her in the reflection. "I have been tying bows all my life."

"Truly?"

"Truly." You slipped the blue ribbon in place. "I used to work for the Miyazawa Farm. Skirts are not what a woman should wear when uprooting weeds but alas, that is all I had. So, I improvised. A strong bit of ribbon and my skirts became shorts."

Naomi's grey eyes that sometimes appeared violet blinked rapidly at you in the reflection. Her brows shot up, and all at once, she was in a fit of giggles.

You tied the bow with a frown. "What?"

"No, I mean no—no offense, but," Her giggles quietened and in their place was a bright smile. A talent of hers, you were noticing. You were fairly certain Naomi's warmth could ignite even the coldest of hearts. "It's just—Gods, you are the strangest woman I've ever met."

One brow raised at Naomi. With fingers still on the bow, you gave a tug and the ribbon came undone.

Naomi cried, reaching up like a bucket of water had been tipped over her crown. "[Name]!" She whined with fingers digging into her bangs. "You cruel woman!"

Despite it all, there was a smile on each of their faces. A mischievous upturn of your lips and the same sunshine grin on Naomi's, both of you contesting with silly stares. There was a shift in the relationship now; an upgrade from common acquaintances to budding friends. Inside these lying Palace walls and arrogant, sometimes insane Royal Officials, you were glad that at least something good was coming out of this job.

Perhaps it would make surviving that bit easier.

However the friends weren't fortunate enough to continue with their jests. In a second the radiance was shattered with a handful of words;

"Look! The Prince, it's The First Prince!"

The air took a steep fall in temperature once the title was said in an excited, womanly shout. You and Naomi locked eyes at the same time in the mirror, only moving when every other maid did so.

The lady who had spotted him apparently did so from the window — which was where a gaggle of women now squashed into. You secretly slipped your hand around Naomi's arm. You were never one to be overly affectionate, but after the sudden passing of your late parents, protectiveness came fiercely and uninvited into your personality.

Naomi didn't mind. If anything, she brought a hand to yours in quiet thanks.

"Oh, look! There he is!"

"Such a dream, isn't he?"

"A dream? That's too weak a word. Our Prince is a mythical being incarnate! Strong and brave and handsome."

"Ow — do not push!"

"If you were not so selfish, Cathryn, then I could gaze upon him easily also!"

The sickly, almost indoctrinated words of those who were star-struck by the Prince of Yo almost made you feel sick. Prince-struck, you decided upon while watching the maids fight like schoolchildren to get a look at him. Completely unable to help your curiosity, you found a pocket between the bustling bodies and peeked out. With just enough space to see clearly down into the Palace courtyard—

The Prince of Yo.

You had truly, never before seen him in person. As an only child, the First Prince was labelled with the Throne's Heir since he was but a babe. His fate was set in stone before words could come out of his mouth. So ever since then, he has been pampered with extra care and kept moderately inside the Palace Walls. There were rumours that he spent some time in the Kingdom of Ko in his earlier years, but you knew little of those wonders.

He was not what you expected.

The fierce nickname Demon Prince of Yo had some serious connotations. In your imagination, this enigmatic Prince who instilled the fear of God into the hearts of his people was a large, terrifying looking man. Perhaps with facial hair and an eyepatch.

However this man you were looking at was a stark opposite. He wasn't large, he was fairly slender, however towered over the two Guards he was sharing a joke with. You could not see his face as he was turned away and facing the far Gardens, was only greeted by the curly mass of brunet hair that was tossed when he laughed. With Royal attire of blue and white accompanied by golden embellishments that gave his status away, he looked every bit a pampered Royal Boy of a sheltered court.

In summary; not at all what you expected. Which made confusion dampen your nerves, because why did those men sound so afraid of him? Why was he named after a servant of Satan?

Outside the lancet window, you watched as the Prince stiffened slightly. Then turned right around to look up, and smiled at the attention he was receiving. A chorus of excited squeals erupted when he waved at them. That was right when you stumbled backwards thanks to the hip of another Prince-struck maid and your vision of him was cut short.

Naomi was there to steady you, hissing at the rude woman who cut across you so quickly.

You weren't paying attention, too busy analysing the sheer impact of seeing the Prince's face to care that a maid had near sent you to your behind.

Normal.

It was the first adjective that came to mind; his smooth skin flawless and evident of a spoiled life, curved eyes that tugged his smile up, generous thick waves framing his face. Everything about him is so normal, you thought, beside yourself with shock. All this time you entertained the thought that the First Prince was a terrifying man. That, with one look, you'd feel your heart still and skin freeze.

But you felt none of that. None of that at all.

Could it be that the Heir she naturally hated was just an innocent Prince laid victim to delusional drunkards and their nicknaming?

"[Name]? [Name]." Naomi was shaking you hard when you came back into the room. "Oh, [Name], what did that brutish woman do to you?"

Quickly to assure her and stop the said brutish woman from feeling Naomi's wrath — you looked down to her.

"I'm fine. It was nothing." Squeals and frantic waves from the maids were filling the quiet room still. Obviously, The Prince was one for attention and still waving at his new maids.

Naomi's bright eyes were wide with worry. "You were away for a moment. I feared that—" Slow recognition flitted across her face. "The Prince." Was all she said, although it held the weight of a million questions. "Did you see him?"

Partly because you wished to speak of something the other maids didn't agree with, and because said maids were becoming agitating with their over-zealous mewls, you ushered Naomi far to your original beds. The shorter girl didn't at all complain.

You told Naomi to sit back in front of the mirror so it could appear your were just doing her bow.

"Yes." You breathed after a moment. "I did."

Your friend strongly resisted the need to whip right around with a million questions on her tongue. Naomi waited until the maids quietened into a dreamy din when the Prince stopped waving to let her nosiness come through.

And the first question was;

"Is it true?"

Your lips thinned at the obvious loaded question. You were still wondering of the answer to that question, yourself.

Is our Prince truly a Demon?

And all you could offer Naomi was the truth.

"That's the thing," A sharp silence as most maids came back to their beds, many with stars in their eyes. You were careful to lean down to Naomi with a quiet tone. "It... outwardly appears... that it is not?"

This time, Naomi didn't hesitate to swivel right around. The ribbon fell from her hair and framed her saucer-like eyes with wild strands of black. "It is not—!? Mm!"

You had slapped a hand across her loud mouth.

And warranted the attention of a maid with bright red hair and a deep, confused frown. Desperately, you stretched your lips into a false smile that physically hurt and hitched your tone high. "Excited, isn't she? I'm afraid seeing the Prince has left her star-struck."

You had said it with the hopes that this red-headed maid was another Prince Worshiper like the rest of them. Thanks to some heavenly power, your hope was in the right place, because the maid smiled in genuine understanding.

"I can understand," She assured, reaching up to run her hand through her long ribbon-kept tresses. Both eyes glazed. "Our Highness has that effect on people. Especially us. Oh, how I wish to serve him in his room!"

Your laugh was strained and had every possibility of turning into a wheeze. It was a wonder it didn't. When you were sure the maid was whisked off someplace far away, you returned your attention to Naomi and took the hand away from her mouth.

"F-Forgive me." Was the first words off her tongue.

"I never thought it would be me scolding you to keep your tongue in your mouth."

Blush exploded across her cheeks. "I was just—just surprised. You think he is not?" Her brows dipped. "You, [Name], are telling me the rumours are fake?"

"I said no such thing." You countered with a haughty whisper. Your own confusion was taking an agitated route, which was not warranted nor what Naomi deserved. So you stopped, took a deep breath, and carefully turned Naomi back around.

"I said it appears that the Prince is not what those rumours say." You continued quietly while gathering her hair back up once more. "I'm just as shocked as you."

"I'm more relieved than shocked," The shorter woman said. With that confession was an obvious sigh that dropped her shoulders. "But what makes you say so?"

You took a little more time to answer, trifling it out with the very normal image of the rumoured Prince of Demons as you tightened the blue bow.

Mannerly brown eyes, a smile that was polite and loving to the maids, the Guards who laughed with him about a jest.

Naomi looked at you expectantly in the mirror. You sighed tightly.

"On first look," A beats pause. Your brows clashed. "He appeared... everything a Demon's opposite. The Prince was all a spoiled Prince was meant to look. And his smile," You didn't know why your teeth gnashed. It was the confusion, perhaps. "It was kind and warm towards his maids. Deserving of their desperate waves in its genuineness."

With every word, it was as if Naomi's own brows raised higher and higher until they had no room left. When she digested it — a lot better than how you had, very evidentially — she said; "Why is it that I don't feel at all reassured?"

It was a question you had no answer to. And even if you had, wouldn't have been able to, because a sharp bell tinkled through the air which signalled every new maid to duty.

You constructed a faux smile that hid any new found confusion around your Heir and took Naomi's arm to come with you. The girl knew that looking into it would only cause unwanted stress when she was expected to tend to the Castle.

Wonders and worries were reserved to the late nightly hours. Now, they were expected to smile and move ahead.

Although you had an odd feeling in your gut that you knew would stay throughout the entire shift. Confusion and dislike were not a fond mix. It made you constantly revisit The Princes short, snapshot image in your mind for some confirmation. How his smile lit his face up, how he waved in appreciation, the Guards laughing. Not all all the man who made drunk men confess their deepest fears or women tuck their children up safely at night.

Later

Water sloshed about in the tin bucket when you dumped another rag inside. A little too forcefully, but with annoyance steadily brewing in your gut and knuckles rubbed raw with dehydration, you were surprised you hadn't cracked what it was that you polished.

For the worse half of the afternoon, you had been stationed in an expansive hallway in the West Wing of the Palace. Given completely unique duties independent to Naomi, you were in her own company surrounded by the distant murmurs of Guards and consistent, maddening scrubbing of polish against wood.

"Royals, Royals, Royals." You hissed with every scrub. Trust the pompous family to have a simply random cabinet holding nothing but China in the middle of an unused hallway. "They just have all that—that tax money to waste on fruitless things, don't they?" You asked the spotless wood, albeit quietly, as the walls had ears. "What needs does a hallway have for fine China?"

Your reflection answered you. Wild and untamed thing that you were; your hair coming undone from the bow and cheeks dusted rose. Well, if you were to actually succeed as a housemaid for a month, you thought with a huff, reaching to tie the bow neatly again, you should learn not to scrub forcefully enough to shake your hair loose.

When the bow whispered and tightened did you drop your hands into your apron pocket and produced the small notebook every training maid had been gifted. Most women coming to the Castle had very little, if not no educational background. So, for the first few weeks they were permitted to take down their daily tasks instead of memorising them. Whether it was through sentences or broken pictures if they were illiterate enough, Miss Yosano did not mind.

What she did mind was that every task was finished at the time of the last bell. And if it wasn't — a bead of sweat came down your spine at the notion — you didn't want to imagine what punishment could possible await.

Fortunately, despite being against it all, you upheld your promise to Naomi and got every job done. Now, there was only one left;

Rake ashes from Guestroom One. Polish fireplace in Guestroom One. Think of how useless it is to have ten Guestrooms. Perhaps sweep the ashes under the pillow. Pray for strength. Card, beat and straighten Guestroom One's mattress. Check for mites behind Guestroom One's mirrors. For Naomi, for Grandfather. Empty chamber pot in Guestroom Five. Tend to the Guestroom guarded by too many men.

The last task was taken down in a haste, hence its apparent vagueness. A poor, appalled [Name] heard the words empty a chamber-pot come from the Head Maid's mouth and zoned out with shock. It was degrading enough that you were serving under a House of Royals that had no respect for their people, so you were beside yourself upon learning maids dealt first-hand with their utmost private waste, too.

For those curious individuals; you had not a pleasant experience, and secretly used the Guestroom's sink to rinse your hands until the waxy soap began to sting.

Yet you had snapped out of it enough to hear the warning that the room would be "guarded by many men", so that was all you scribbled down. A Lord, perhaps. Most of the Guestrooms you had been tending to today were kept in check by one outstanding Guard. Sometimes not even that. These West-Wing rooms were not used too often, you were told by Yosano before setting off.

However, the East-Wing of the Palace was. And you were also warned to be especially careful of your manners.

Let me see how long I shall last, the amusing wonder came as you walked bristly with the can of water. You thought herself fortunate that you had not bumped into any Royal Officials or — God forbid, the Royals themselves — while on duty. But now, you were entering an area that was apparently crawling with them.

Keep your tongue in, [Name]. For Grandfather, for Naomi.

You considered your execution if you snapped at a Palace Dweller, and then saw an empty bed beside a broken-hearted Naomi. It was what made you swallow tightly and try the damnedest to get this task done quickly as possible. For it was almost dusk; the sky outside the lancet windows was bleeding orange and blush.

The Castle of Yo was situated on a small incline in the Kingdom, far above any village houses or common squares. But you knew everyone existed under the same sky, and wished your Grandfather could see the same gorgeous display of twilight.

Do you miss me, you old wart?

"You better do." You answered, although a smile was on your face. "Who will you play chess with now?"

Images of the chipped board and hand-crafted pieces came with voice and laughter — all trinkets of the past. You were not given the liberty of reminiscing, because you had now turned a corner east. A new Wing of the Palace was where you found yourself. And Yosano had not been kidding, but she had also not been firm enough with her warnings, either—

The place was crawling with Royal Guards!

Everywhere you looked; beside the lavish paintings against the walls, potted plants watered by housemaids more experiences than you, lining every single doorway, there was men with swords and the hilt and hard expressions. Your hands tightened on the bucket, not feeling the nicest with so many eyes suddenly lasered on you. What, am I that threatening? You wished to ask. I'm carrying a bucket, for Gods sake! Hardly a weapon of destruction.

Alas, none of them would take their eyes off of you as you made way to the most protected room of all. An impressive diplomat, he must be behind those doors. With golden lining the wood and four men on each side, you couldn't help but wonder if he was a visiting Guest or a permanent resident. Or just a high-standing man of society who wished for more Guards than he needed.

You would not be at all surprised.

You came to a stop right before the Guard who looked wildly different than the rest of them. He was tall and fierce looking, with grey hair let fall around his shoulder and silver eyes. A wolf, was the first thing you named him while taking in his strange dress. They were definitely not Palace colours. No, this stranger wore a robe of murky green and had a thinner, longer sword sitting at his side.

A foreign diplomat, the man he's guarding must be. The Guard looked at you and you had to straighten your spine. This Guard is not from here.

"What business have you here?" Was the only question he asked you. A level, strong voice. Not commanding, like you initially expected. The aura around this man, the very way he stood. You were quickly understanding that perhaps this foreign man did not command for anything. He simply received it.

Resisting a huff — what do you believe my business is, Guard? I'm in maid's clothes with a maid's pale, you shook the bucket in your hand. "I am to tend to this room, My Lord. It is almost time for the bell and it's the last on my list of duties."

Cool grey eyes slipped down your form in inspection. The Guard deemed you acceptable with a short nod and a step aside.

Although before you entered; "I am no Lord."

Water sloshed dangerous in the bucket when you backtracked to look at him. "Pardon me?"

"You addressed me as a Lord. I am none, nor have I ever been."

Your brows pinched. Truly, such bizarre words from a man of a Royal Court. Perhaps he was not from this Court, but still — it was common to address those higher in society with the appropriate label.

"Then..." You ventured with an unsure, albeit curious tone. "What shall I address you as?"

The strange Guard had his eyes closed now and returned to looking ahead. "Fukuzawa." Was the name he said, a unique one not from this Kingdom.

Was he asking you to use his name? In a Royal Court? Or was this a test?

You thought it probable that this man could be messing with you just to see a poorly maid whipped. In a Palace, no sort of deceit would surprise you. "If that is your name, my Lord, I cannot use it. It is improper."

"Then you may address me as Wolf."

"... Truly?"

"Indeed."

So he does not intend to whip me. He is just another outlier of the Court more stranger than the rest. Although you chose not to protest further with the odd Guard and pushed your way into the room. After all, you were still a training maid, and the time of sunset was almost upon you.

"Wolf. Honestly." You chuckled quietly once inside. Shaking your head, you set the bucket down on the floor. "What type of title is that?"

Although it could not be disputed that he didn't give you the same agitation other Royal Guards did. It was a thought you placed quietly aside, right where the ones of the Prince were to mull over later. Because now it was time for tending—

The wind was knocked right out of your empty stomach.

Gold. Everything in the Guestroom you stood inside was tipped and coated in the finest notes of gold; from the walls to the tables. A huge poster bed with the sheets only creased and not slept in took up most of the room's decor, its silk complimenting the curtains that tossed delicately in the wind. Painted a pale blue with intricate arts of white, the walls were embellished with paintings and the ceiling was high. From there, a chandelier glittered and danced with the settling sun.

You swallowed, having never seen such an obnoxious display of wealth. And then, the wonder and awe soured into sharp anger.

The Royal Family have this much money to spend on Guestrooms when their people are wasting away? Just for a foreign diplomat? A diplomat that didn't even sleep in his bed, but merely lay on top and turned just a few times. Nor did he touch his food tray. The silver platter had a delicious display of cheeses and breads, fruits and candied oranges, cracked eggs that were collecting grey with how long they have been left.

The shamelessly wasted food made your stomach growl and rage thunder. Whoever this man was that lived in here, he ought to be ashamed. To the highest order. Wasting a platter of breakfast and not appreciating a warm bed. But truly, what had I expected from Royals and their contacts? They would throw food and wealth at others to impress, do anything to cover up the breaking pegs of the Kingdom that held it up.

With a new-found shame and disgust at your monarchs, you busied yourself with everything you had conducted in the other Guestroom. Fixing the bedsheets, carding the mattress, polishing even specks of dust on the mirrors, however in this place you did it with a genuine snarl on your lips. Especially when you picked up a full entrée of food you hadn't even tasted before, much less seen, and dumped it right into the waste bucket.

Such a shame. Grandfather would be appalled when she told him. Or perhaps he'd attempt to defend them.

But how could you defend this? Wealth slapped against the walls and wasted food? You saw absolutely nothing but guilt in the action, making your frown deepen.

Although one part of the room that made your skin physically tight with anger allowed the frown soften somewhat.

A chessboard.

Situated on a table of its own with two plush chairs, there sat the most beautiful chess board you had ever cast your eyes upon. It was not out of place in this room of gold, but fond memories of your Grandfather made you look upon this ornament not with hatred, but gentle curiosity.

Oh, but you could not help yourself. You had such a soft spot for the game and the memories it held. Carefully walking over to the table right at the window, you reached out to finger some of the tiles. The stone was cold to the touch — pure marble, and not wood. The pieces were akin to crystals. Glossy, cloudy glass for the white and murky black for the opposing side. You knew it was just another ornament, another gaudy display, but you picked up a piece in anyway.

A pawn. Your lips kicked up when Grandfather's words echoed in your mind;

"My favourite piece? That's easy lass. A pawn."

"A pawn? But—But they're the weakest piece on the board, Grandfather."

"Aye, they may be considered weak. And they are. But at least they never back down."

"They never back down..." You parroted quietly. A steady ache bloomed in your heart when you turned the smooth piece over. Unsurprisingly, you found yourself preferring Grandfather's chipped wooden counterpart; those pieces never felt so cold and unloved.

A sudden creaking of a door behind you.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage and you snapped around — placing the piece blindly back onto the board.

It was the peculiar Guard. Wolf, per his request. He was looking at you with calm eyes, although one brow was raised ever so slightly.

"Miss Maid," He began. "Your service is appreciated, but I thought it worth mentioning the sound of a bell I just heard."

A bell? You frowned, wondering why that applied to you. Although realisation of why it did hit you with the terrifying force of a freight train.

That bell!

"Oh!" You gushed. Then quickly gathered composer with a tight cough. Acting ladylike in front of a Guard, even a strange Wolf Guard, who were you really? "I am done." You affirmed.

Gathering your skirts and rushing to take the bucket, you brushed quickly passed Guard Wolf and into the hallways. This was the first day and you were already behind time. Any other Royal Official and you would have went out of your way to be late. But the overseer of maids in this Castle was a terrifying woman who sent shivers up your spine. You pushed harder, only noticing that you failed to check over the room one last time before leaving.

One final check. Always. Don't you dare leave without it. Yosano's voice in your head. It was obvious that it was more a threat than friendly advice. No matter, you dismissed quickly. That room was untouched enough. You could wager your neck nothing was out of place even without it.

Unfortunate it was for your neck. What this particular training maid failed to consider that in her haste, she had left one item out of place in the room of gold and diamonds.

High, pleasure-riven cries were what filled the small room that the Prince of Yo was wasting some of his time. At present, it was with the most stimulating of distractions; sex.

He steadily eased his long fingers in and out of her — this high-standing Lady-in-Waiting who was becoming a little too frequent for his liking. Attachment of a woman such as herself could indeed prove a headache. But no matter — they were future worries that had no worth in the present. With long, luscious waves of deep red that matched the blush spreading across her cheeks, Rosette was the most impressive Lady of his Court.

He's be foolish, however, to think her anything but the venomous viper that she was.

"Oh—Oh, My Prince," She mewled for him. Rocked her hips into his skilled touch greedily. "There, it's there."

Dazai raised a brow and moved his quick touch to everywhere that wasn't there. "Hmm? Giving your Prince orders, Rosette?"

With a wicked grin unlike the smiling Prince his maids knew him to be, he listened at her agitated cry. It was followed by a rushed apology, of course, and then a desperate plea for him to spare her. That was the one thing Prince Dazai was always sure of - he'd never enjoy his maids in a sexual way. It was, as his Father would reprimand him, an unsightly display and encourager of more labels. Maids had loose tongues when not in Court. But Women-in-Waiting.

He felt her hands on his broad shoulders — a quiet beg, another shift of her hips into the hand underneath her immaculate skirts.

Women-in-Waiting tended to keep their love-affairs to themselves, unless it was to make other Women of the Court jealous. It was, in their minds, a race for the throne after all.

"My Prince—!" Rosette's whine was wanton again. It was becoming irritable, Dazai was noticing. Laced in a false tone that hid her want to cage him, lure with her charm so she could one day be Queen. With her strongly-scented perfume and painted lips, Dazai looked her right in the eyes and lowered his voice.

"You will never be Queen."

Rosette's equally red brows clashed in confusion. Bright, hazel eyes became wide. "My—?"

Although Dazai gave her no time to finish. In a frenzy, and partly because he wished her to silence, he attacked her lips with his and manoeuvred his touch back to where there was. He had it memorised, and whatever confusion was tightening Rosette's muscles melted away. She eagerly returned his attention with quick, tiring movements of her tongue and encouraging moans.

Her hips snapped harder into his touch. He pressed, twirled, sunk his teeth into her bottom lip and her movements stuttered.

"Hah—ah!" The Lady-in-Waiting came undone underneath him. Pressed up against the wall, her hands fisted into his shirt and she threw her head back. "Oh, My—My Prince! Ahh...!"

Dazai removed his fingers from her when she was finished and completely released her. He was cruel in that regard; sex was a passer of time, not an intimate act. Reaching for a cloth in his pocket, he cleaned his hand and hid the strangely cold smile playing on his lips.

Prince Dazai of Yo did not believe in intimacy. Love was difficult for him to feel. Wicked and intelligent, he was given constant praise for being it, so he could comprehend why humans would want to feel love. They were lonely, wishing for a deeper meaning to life than simple existence.

One thing he did not understand, however, was the want to look for a deeper meaning in existence. Sometimes, Dazai felt as if he was the only truly awake one in the room. Life had no meaning, existence was bleak as it was taxing. Humans only felt truly released when they allowed themselves to die, and that was where his opinion ended.

Perhaps that was why he kept seeing such dull, grey walls.

"My Prince?" Rosette called his attention back. Although he did not look to her, he heard how she smoothened down her gown and fixed her mused hair. Happy after-pleasure made her words light. "If I could ask, what was it that you said to me? A few seconds prior? I'm afraid I was too... preoccupied, to really understand."

Clever. Dazai fixed his expression back into Princely charm and lifted his head. Such a bright smile, his eyes closed and curved with it. "Forget it. I was too preoccupied too, it seemed. You do have that effect on men, lovely Rosette~"

The barest flicker behind her soft, hazel eyes. No one except for the Prince of Yo, who was perceptive to a point where it bordered unnatural, could catch it. Sadistic glee raced in his bloodstream — she had heard him. Loud and clear.

And she was far from happy.

It seemed that the most beautiful Lady-in-Waiting was not used to being denied. But he was her Prince, so she was cautious with her wording. "Oh, but allow me to beg you," She reached up to clasp her hands and rest them on her generous breasts. "For it'll haunt my dreams to know. I do respect everything you say, My Prince."

Dazai didn't allow his smile to drop, nor his tone to deepen. Although he made a quick decision that this little triste was coming to its close, and he needed to make himself clear. "Will you insist if I keep my secrets?" He sang with ribbons of playful tease.

"I believed we were past secrets."

There was his reason. Nail stamped in the coffin. "Well, how could any man resist you, Rosette?" The barest tilt of his head left. "I said we should stop seeing each other."

Rosette's face was like a mask had just collapsed right from it. Her false smile went from bright to completely slack, her eyes let their walls down to show nothing but intense hazel fury. "M-My Prince?" Although she could be given credit, for her tone was the same sugar-poison as always.

Dazai opened his eyes and all of a sudden, gone was the happy Prince many in the Court knew him to be. Now, he was appearing how he did to only a handful of unfortunates in the Palace. Blank, deep brown eyes. An uncaring smile. The Demon Prince of Yo saw the fractures in Rosettes plan and decided he'd tear it down until it existed as mere broken shards.

"I said; our triste has gone on long enough, and I wish to end it. I don't particular wish to be collared, and yet you are attempting to collar me. Perhaps there are men of the Court who wish to sleep with a viper who'll bite them after they do, but I am not one of them." Cold, amused laughter. "To answer you properly, I said you would never be Queen. Queens of snakes belong in a small burrow and not a Kingdom's golden throne."

Finding immense pleasure in the way Rosette's skin had drained in shock until it was mere rice-paper, Prince Dazai lifted a hand to the door. "You are free to leave." Was how he ended this distraction, his tone a teasing lilt.

Quiet amusingly, Rosette's ashen complex heated until it was the colour of her hair. With no words to her Prince, because after all, she was a Lady-in-Waiting and he a King's Son, she furiously gathered her skirts and rushed from the room. Leaving behind an unamused Prince who watched her go with unfeeling eyes. The Demon Prince of The Yo Kingdom. A man who cared not for other humans emotions and say everything in life through a lens of grey.

ʚɞ . . . 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

ʚɞ . . . 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄