——an awakening of a rose.
Story: The Tragedy of Wolf and Lamb (original) Category: F/M Relationship: Princess Eru/Prince Laphicet Language: English Warnings: blood, death, adoptive sister/brother relationship Note: please keep in mind there is no blood relation between Eru and Laphicet whatsoever. To better understand the plot, read the previous story, “Five times prince Laphicet kissed princess Eru”, thank you!
One phenomenon no sorcery could alter is a heart of a girl in love.
He brings the rose to every conquest. Secured in a cage made of glass, it floats in the air alike the crown floated before the day of the unfortunate coronation when the usurper took a legitimate claim over the kingdom by betraying his sister. Knowing, wherever her spirit resides, she becomes forced to bear witness to the bloodshed he introduces wherever the armies march brings Laphicet an unholy pleasure. His advances continue to taint her innate shine even now, even in this miserable, pathetic form of a beautiful flower. With time he discovers her feelings could be felt emanating from the plant coffin, a factor to fuel his satisfaction taken from destroying the image of a good, innocent world she has so yearned to believe in.
There are days, however, when gloom conquers even him. Lounged on the gilded throne, king Laphicet finds himself holding the pink rose in his hands, turning it before his eyes, and a hum of deep thought is eventually stolen from his throat. Her presence in the palace, saccharine and unbearably annoying as it was, became a new reality. The sweetness of her worship over him, watered with sweetened lies carved by the mask worn by a traitor, a most welcomed reaction by a man so vain as him.
Every once in a while king Laphicet would toy with the idea of bringing Eru back.
And deities might only know in their omnipresent wisdom what mockery made the unspoken wish find its reflection in the reality.
Troops of the kingdom locked under the hand of a tyrant advanced throughout the world, to the farthest of its corners. However prepared, the defenders would eventually fall due to the unknown magic that aided Laphicet's soldiers in battle; the magic he himself wielded. Under such circumstances, he ponders, wearing the crown of power over the entire universe would become a matter of time. A little bit of patience has already proved to bear fruit to a reward enough, as he has learned in the period of enchanting his assumed sister.
"My liege, my king! The kingdom of Xian'Chen is yours!" The general exclaims upon entering the royal encampment, a spacious tent leafed in marvelous designs and sprinkled in luxuries. His silver armor is stained by blood. "Our soldiers are enslaving the last numbers of the enemy. We should have them all in your grasp by sunrise."
A smirk rises to Laphicet's lips. As foreseen, he shall bathe in one more triumph that night. Although his tactics most commonly consist of techniques unheard of and the foe stunned in unforeseen astonishment, this time the king chose to settle on a classic. His troops split and landed an attack from several sides upon the unprepared, resting armies of ta king who dared defy him, and thus they emerge carrying the shield. An execution of the bold ruler before his people shall teach them well not to deny him the right to conquer and rule.
"Very well, general. Continue your pursue of the fleeting and report to me once they land in our cells. We must crush every last worm under our heel." He speaks at last, voice resonating with satisfaction. A wave of his hand sends the soldiers and advisors bent in a bow away.
And then he turns to his rose.
"Will you not congratulate me on yet another victory, sweet sister?" Words are laced in mockery when Laphicet speaks this time, his hand hovering just above the glass surface of the flower's forever coffin. "Soon there shall stand not a single kingdom to oppose my will. Are you not filled with pride? Joy? I have come to achieve what your miserable parents thought impossible, improper as they might have called it - and now here I am, my inherited kingdom expanded across the world. Such a misfortune you cannot witness it with your own eyes."
Only silence befalls the luxurious station. There is no chirping voice to admire his doings, no sweet melody of her love to be confessed anymore, and the sudden lack of it brings annoyance to his mind. He shoves these thoughts aside, however, and growls under his breath as the hand clenches into a fist.
"Have I told you what fools they were, your parents? Queen and her consort, a pathetic man settling for so little, holding no real power in his hand. Such phenomenon continued throughout generations of this miserable line, but I couldn't bear to watch so much potential wasted." Laphicet declares as his teeth greet. "They took me under their wings when I was but a boy and then they bore you, my sister dear. The rightful heir to the crown. But it was I who was older, who was prepared for this! Although they have forbidden me from extensive studies, oh, I have studied. I became wiser and more powerful, yet they still failed to see me fit for the throne, putting their hopes in a babe that could never rival me."
Unknowingly does he begin to pace across the room, hands now held behind his back and face distorted in disgust. To a watchful observer there would be dark chapter concealed underneath the gilded surface, more than what Laphicet chooses to word. Long, long years of concealed and muffled resentment flowing alongside hurt and a sense of injustice at judgements of fate. For an unknown reason it is but easier to voice them into the ether, pretend none hearkens.
"Yet look at me now, sister! Here I am and here are the kingdoms that bow before my might, and soon will I rule over them all, despite whatever mother and father thought. A king of the whole world... It does have a sweet ring to it, I cannot deny." Within a blink the mask that was threatening to shatter just a moment ago heals its breakage and the vain king returns. "The entire human race will bathe in darkness if such is my desire, they will..."
The sound of cannons cuts through the monologue and Laphicet halts mid step, his brows furrow at the commotion on the outside. Alas, it seems the rebellion against his will continues to exist despite the promises of his generals. A mistake that cannot go unperceived, and on the very spot does he conjure a dozen punishments that shall be served for their misinformation. Another growl escapes him and as soon as the monarch aims for the entrance to the royal tent, the screams and clashes of swords dilate in velocity. It is a battle he shall attend himself.
Not long afterwards does blood return to water the cracked soil.
His forces unstoppable, the king strangles the last sliver of hope in the foreign champions' hearts with his crushing spells. They are desperate and brave, yet fools nonetheless, and soon their final vanquish is set in stone. A large part of his armies' encampment is gone, however, and so is his own royal tent, the last trace of it burned to the ground. My rose!, an unforeseen and most certainly unpleasant thought crosses his mind at such miserable sight, until...
The courtain of dust falls to the ground and there she is, his little sister in her very human form.
Pastel pink hair tremble on the wind of the battle and her chest is bare, although long, black sleeves pool around her as she kneels on the ground. Her legs delved into the pool of blood drain it from the crimson liquid as her own life force regenerates from the sacrifice of the dead. It flows through her, the vitality lost, and the princess accepts it as a new part of her, necessary to aid her in becoming whole, past months spent in the domain of the Afterlife.
Where there is astonishment painted upon him, there is also steel preventing any wonder from appearing on the facade. Soldiers stand beside him, although Laphicet dismisses them with an angered wave of the hand. He cannot be sure how much of her is regained and how much is still missing, yet whatever the numbers, the certainty that she shall be effortless to take down is obvious to him. Rather than attack, he observes.
Her bones creak when Eru lifts herself from the ground, foreign blood dripping down her form, and the breath taken in gives her a visible pleasure; so different from the times when air filled her rose form, certainly, and for that feeling alone would she go to the same lengths again if only it meant tasting the war-filled dust. To her, it is the sweetest, most releasing perfume, regardless of death that creeps into it. When her eyes open, gleaming and teary and innocent, she speaks these three words he could ever despise the most.
"I forgive you."
Sparks of enchanted light shake apart this linked world as his wrath continues to quench its thirst for blood. Regardless of the meticulously weaved scheme, there is a glimpse of power still inside of her when she defends herself from his furious onslaught, countless dark spells shattering against a weak shield born from her soul. One after another they meet the same fate, turned into soft sparkles of color that eventually fall to the ground. Her resistance only fuels his anger now. Two assumed siblings on parallel sides of the throne room where the deceipt was revealed and the unfortunate princess who believed in love turned to a rose. In there they are alone by Laphicet's irascible order, his most trusted guards awaiting their king behind heavy, gold doors; they stand witness to the duel's orchestra alone.
"Why must you pain me so, Eru?" He bellows, more and more crafty incantations conjured by determined hands. Dark magic is the plane of sorcery he excels in combat, spells meant not to harm, but torture and kill instead. "Have I not provided you with an existence of serenity, free of worry that poisoned your mind? Have I not done all of it for you?!"
"Even now you would feed me lies." Her voice is a delicate whisper cast against a storm as the surface of the silver barrier around her bears more and more scratches left by his ire.
Despite the thunderous cacophony of sounds filling the chamber, he hears her just well.
"Your pure soul would never stand the weight of the crown, dear sister, we both knew that. My actions, everything I did, was to save you from this dreadful fate! Come, lower your defense and I shall leave be this act of ingratitude." A wicked grin plastered to his features speaks otherwise. "Has my love not taken root inside of you? Surely you must feel it also!"
White and gold intertwine with black and an enormous wave of magic seems to swallow the bubble of her shield with ease, alike a great snake with its jaws open wide. Or perhaps a thousand snakes, each one biting and stinging on its own. Yet even now does she continue to resist him, even when the protective surface shrinks under the force of Laphicet's assault, and Eru dreads in sadness at the thought in the end it might all be for nothing.
He sparked this love in her mind, in her heart, and now he yearns to eradicate it. So be it.
Consumed by obsidian black, she does not recognize the moment when his levitating form cuts through the air and rushes towards the defense around her, the spell emanating from his hand shattering its completely. In her head there is only the melody of the kingdom’s traditional song which they have once danced to, when she still believed him to be the brother filled with good will and he believed her to become forgotten in a single beat of a heart. How wrong they both were.
The impact of the incantation sends her shivering, trembling legs threaten to give in at the strength of the intrusion, and it is only Laphicet's swift reaction that sends an arm free of magic to snake about her wait, effortlessly lifting her smaller body from the ground. There is little life left in Eru, again, the damages done to her by his wrath too great, and she rests helpless in his embrace, powerless hands aiming below and pink strands swaying just above the damaged, once so ornate floor. There she is, his prey, his little rose, ready to be defeated for eternity. A perfect occassion to deal the closing blow.
And yet for a split second - he hesitates.
A soft, glowing form radiates from her palm when Eru musters the last wave of energy to lift one shivering palm towards him. It assumes a shape of a golden heart, the brightest, nearly overpoweringly beautiful vision ever seen by Laphicet's eyes, and once again does he furrow his brows at the display. Could it be a mysterious strategy to divert his attention? A ploy to take an upper hand in battle? The organ is pierced by rose thorns, embraced by graceful vines, and several small, almost transparent petals fall from its mold.
"I'm giving you", the princess begins with her voice so weak, so pathetic, so disgustingly defeated, "the one thing of me you have always wanted."
In an instant, Laphicet understands.
The very essence of her power, the heritage passed from queen to queen, and thus the radiance of the royal force is bestowed right before him. An offering from a young girl bound to shackles of love. Like them all, she is just a fool.
Laphicet reaches for it, his fingers tease the surface of the golden heart before the entire hand hovers around it, prepared to crush the magnificent coffin and let the magical potential flow through him, the new rightful king. However, before proceeding to unleash the force, he takes a glance below, at the teary, doe eyes of his sister fading in his arms; he wonders if this is the romantic ending she would have wished this tale to possess.
"Had it been mine from the start, you would still have led a happy little life on the farm in the pits of this world, with your pigs and cows." He mocks. "You know with this power I shall bring ruin to whatever dare oppose me. I will make this world bow and worship me. Say, sister, do you have no regrets?"
Baring the fruit of her queenly essence to him is a disaster personified, the princess acknowledges that. So much blood shall be spilled, so many people slaughtered due to a mere whim of a vain, avaricious man... And soon the ultimate battle of fates shall ensue too, where the dead take up arms against the living. She has seen it with her own eyes, the preparations, spirits hurled into devising and eager to devour. What a sad fate to befall that dominion, and yet, a single realization follows all of it.
When she speaks again, it is not deprived of utmost and complete resignation. "Without you, brother, I have no more attachment to this world."
An eyebrow arches at such dramatic confession and the monarch laughs. A beautiful rose that fell for a tyrant despised by the universe, could her fairytale become any more pitiful than that? Thought cut short, at last does he crush the heart gifted by his sister.
The might that surges forth comes in a true explosion.
It fills every inch of his existence, every vein, every muscle and every droplet of blood, and his entire form shines gold. It merges into one with the essence of the regal heritage. It's his, his own, at last!, a total surrender of everything the princess has ever had inside of her and finally does he feel truly, utterly invincible. Ah, with this new talent at his disposal, there shall stand no realm and no continent capable of withstanding his will; everyone will be his to rule, every town his to destroy should Laphicet see it fit. He will become the lord of life and death, equal to god. For a moment he merely marvels in the glow of his new persona, the intensity expanding within his core, an echo of another wave of the maniacal laughter carried across the throne hall. Everything his adoptive parents would have yearned to prevent eventually occured, the conclusion a most welcomed victory ever achieved. One of his palms still glittering gold rests upon her cheek.
"Your sacrifice and devotion will not go unnoticed, sister." When he speaks there are dozen voices combined into one, and the sovereign leans to her wretched, dying form fading from his embrace. "...Forever will you be mine."
For a blink of an eye, the world stills. There is life in the kiss he leaves on her lips. A true prince charming awaking his princess with a long promised, grandoliquent kiss; the reference brings distaste to his thoughts, yet his mouth remains pressed to hers still. A truly insane gesture from him - something he demands to call mercy -, the unwillingness to let her go, no matter how much hatred he fiercely declares for her.
And with this new order established for the cycle of life and death, she returns to him. The body once coldening is warm to the touch again, these cursed doe eyes opening to grant him a look of disbelief, her entire aura clouded by a lack of understanding, and even when the kiss comes to an end, he does not release her from the embrace of his arms.
Perhaps he never will.
Little does the passionate denial matter whilst confronted with the truth.
She who was his adoptive sister and the rightful queen of the nation is now his queen. His bride. She sits beside Laphicet in the throne room when he holds her hand and continues the despotic rule over the realm in which more kingdoms bend to his will. And what sight to remember she is! Dressed in white silks and cashmere, with her teary eyes forever filled with love for the king. Many do not understand her, many declare she needs to be saved from the claws of a leech piercing her soul, yet there is no real threat in her that could jeopardize his claim anymore - and so Laphicet allows her to love and stay by his side.
What he discards as nonsense is the fact that such solution pleases him immensely.
Eru's kindness and benevolence are still, of course, a measly factor that needs to be eradicated, even while he finds it oddly charming at times. To the people she is righteous, caring and kind. The last innocence rooted inside of her, reluctant to let go, no matter how dark a place this world becomes. Ah, but the darker it is, the more bodies fall dead, the greater the river of blood, the more she clings to him.
Despite her young age, sometimes he finds Eru wise beyond the years. She knows when to remain silent and when to gain his attention (and gods may stand witness she abuses this priviledge almost obnoxiously), when her aid to the common folk might be accepted and when it would only anger him, and she weaves the words so gracefully Laphicet can do little but marvel at how much she has grown to a state befitting a queen. Evident also is her influence over him. At times, if only for the sake of seeing that cursed smile which eventually shall become his end one day, the king would act against his nature and bid acts of rare good will to the nations under his command. Such campaigns gain astonishment not only from his vile servants, but also from the afflicted subjects themselves. They are grateful, of course, even if the rebellion does not cease in its desperate attempts, and each such occassion would orchestrate a parade of temporary happiness marching across the land. She would hold his hand and kiss his cheek then, and for this single moment in the endless flow of history everything would be good.
Even if I should hate her... Even if I should hate him... We have feelings we wish to convey even if someone would be made a sacrifice! We have both committed an unforgivable sin of turning against this world, and yet more than power, and yet more than freedom, I shall love only you.