Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This story starts approximately around 4000 years before the main story, around the founding of Vesuvia
Hiraya and Prospero loved each other, they were as happy as can be. However, the stress of ruling drove Prospero to make deals left and right. Slowly losing more and more of himself as time went on. The last shreds of his humanity bargained away when he made a deal with Valdemar to build him a city everlasting.

All of this, he kept secret from his wife. Who with his love and support, ruled the city. But as time went on...they started talking less and less. Almost as if Prospero has hid from them only coming at night, offering soothing words and praise. But he who gave the sweetest kiss also gave the most venomous bite. Hiraya was made to do many, many things in order to please him. Many of which they would never be proud of. He took everything they could give. Power, money, sex, but nothing was ever enough. He drank up every ounce of their time. Because unlike Lucio, Prospero would not let them take a minute to themselves lest they begin to think something is amiss. He would cry on and on about how much he's done for them and how ungrateful they were for wanting to leave him.

Soon, he began hitting them. Deep angry bruises covered under silk dresses, make up, and magic. They were still Countess, and they had their duties. They would be late for their dates and his demands. And every time, they would try to bring him a gift, a small token they were sure made him smile. But all of those tokens clattered onto the floor as he slaps it out of their hands.

But on some days, some days he was his bright old self again. The man they knew they loved and married. They cherished those days like how a starving man cherishes a morsel of corn. And soon, Hiraya would be touch starved and compliant, unquestioning to give him anything, anything he wants. And he says he wants to protect Vesuvia, and for that he'd need to sacrifice the one thing most important to him....them. They didn't question him. They know him, they know he loves them, they know he loves Vesuvia. And he'd do what's best for them, for everyone.

Prospero had rushed everything, hungry for more power, for more fame, for his legacy to be one of the strongest there is, and for Hiraya to not notice anything amiss. He made them work the heavy jobs, time and energy consuming to keep their mind occupied. Isolating them from whatever people they had left, he couldn't afford to have them realize his plan.

It's the night of the ritual, moonlight shines upon the surface of the altar as Hiraya walks forward with their hands bound and their eyes blindfolded. Despite being willing to sacrifice it all for Vesuvia, Prospero no longer trusts them. Nor could he have trusted anyone but himself. Little does Hiraya know that the altar is a mirror, with a binding rune behind it. The audience chants a strange spell, one they can't quite recognize amongst the murmurs.

Walking slowly to the altar, they're taken in by Prospero's arms, leaning into his familiar form, taking a deep breath as they savor his scent. They're relieved to have someone they trust perform this ritual. It would be their last after all. Prospero kisses them deeply as he lays them out onto the mirror's surface. And they take in everything and more, starving for even the smallest specks of love.

As he begins to chant, Hiraya realizes that this is not at all the spell he said he was going to do. They struggle and scream as assistants hold them down and Prospero carves a matching binding rune onto the flesh of their back. The surface they were once laying on turns into liquid and they find themselves falling, drowning, their screams muffled as they're thrown around the currents until they find themselves on solid ground. Taking their blindfold off, they see they're in the palace...but...it's deserted.

They're inside the mirror now. Inside a never ending twilight when it is neither day or night. Never seeing the stars, moon, or sun or even have a small rodent to keep them company. It would be centuries before they would feel the warm embrace of another human, or shining light of dawn again

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They were used as a consultation device for the Vesuvian countship. Spending their days overseeing meetings, recording the events and laws, and being an unwilling confidante to whoever is in power. The mirror distorts into a cloudy haze whenever they speak, their voice only heard by the Count and their close circle. They were never considered human, not for a long time. They were merely something used to record and advise.

When they weren't speaking to officials, they were doing whatever they could inside their prison, a mirror image copy of the Vesuvian palace. From aimlessly wandering the halls, using the rooms, the library, the music studio, their room with.....no. They don't even want to think of his name. But even still, love remains despite the atrocities done, it's fickle and irrational. But part of them will always know of the man who loved them and held their hand as they spoke to the crowds, the man who kissed them goodnight and draped a blanket over them as they drift to sleep, the man who murdered a part of them. The part of them who saw hope in the world, who saw Vesuvia and thought that it was a city full of promise, the part of them that loved him as much as anyone could love another, hoping to build an empire that will last forever. How naive that part of them was. The world is built upon the ruins of empires that thought themselves immortal. And as for Vesuvia....they hope would fall, and soon.

They never wanted to think, of anything. The world outside, their past, but their thoughts would haunt them in their isolation. They took up hobbies, they drew, they painted, they wove and sew, they studied the instruments despite never having touched or glanced at any of it until then, uncaring if they had the skills or not. If there's anything they had an abundance of, it was time. They needed something....anything to occupy their thoughts through the vast emptiness. They sang and performed until they grew tired of their own voice, choosing to get used to the silence.

A silver lining to their imprisonment is that they never needed to sleep or eat as time in the mirror was frozen. But the further it went on...they started to detach from reality, from who they were, unsure if they were even human in the first place. Ironically, there were no mirrors. They've forgotten their own face, their name....who...who were they? They've tried to remember, to cling on to whatever piece of memory they had, writing their name on any scrap of paper they could find, scratching it on the walls, repeating it to themselves
"Hiraya, my name is Hiraya Manawari, foundress of Vesuvia and first Countess, Hiraya, my name is-"
Time starts to corrode their memory until they forgot who they were before this prison. But is it really? Perhaps it's a sanctuary they've built to protect themselves. The people outside, the ones who speak to them, the only things they were concerned about were wars, coups, assassins, and executions. Perhaps this is a safe haven they've placed themselves in to protect themselves from whatever world those counts live in.

Besides, they had every hobby at their disposal. But soon they'd grow sick of those too. Slamming the piano shut mid song, tearing apart their own art, screaming in the middle of songs... whatever joy and relief they had slowly vanishes as "time" went on. And once the relief disappeared, their sanity started to vanish as well. After so long in the mirror, they were certain they were alone. Until they started to see flickers in the corner of their eye. The flickers forming into shadows, shadows who started to murmur, shadows who haunted them repeating the thoughts they thought they've buried deep inside
"No one knows you're here" "No one will save you" "They all forgot, all of them" "Who are you to think that you ever mattered to anyone?"
They couldn't trust their eyes, or their sense of judgement. They spend days, months, possibly years staring off into nothing. Standing still unsure what to make of it all. Their face blank and their eyes empty

No matter how they despised most counts, they could never bring themselves to truly hate them. They knew who those counts were as children, they've watched them grow and flourish, and consequentially,they saw what happened to those who became corrupt, helpless to do anything as their words fell on deaf ears. There was always this sense of envy to every count they've spoken to. A sense of envy as they watch from their mirror how they all wasted their lives and ignored the people around them in pursuit of their desires. Pressing their hands onto the cold surface of the mirror, their window to the outside, thinking to themselves
"I could have lived your life better than you have"

Their loneliness turns into hopelessness and depression as they begin to lose everything there was that distracted them from their own thoughts. They wished there was someone, anyone, or something trapped in there with them. Even if that thing was hellbent on killing them. But no, they're left with themselves. And honestly? What's the difference? They've thrown themselves off of stairwells, windows, towers, they've poisoned themselves, they tried many ways but they keep on waking up, unharmed. Surrounded by broken glass and dried blood. Still in their prison. It was as if they were a corpse that has woken up unharmed in the middle of the crime scene. The relief and disappointment upon waking them up is overshadowed by embarrassment every time as they woke up from their many attempts at killing themselves. Questioning reality as they wonder
"Am I in a dream? Can't I wake up?" "What if I'm already dead and this is hell." "Can't I wake up?"
Trying, recording every method, writing down how it felt as their lungs burned and how long it took for them to asphyxiate, the pain of impact compared to the fleeting glee of falling, how their skin split open as they watched blood trickle down as they let themselves bleed out, until they realize...not even death will free them from this. This is all there is and ever will be for them. There is no escape in sight.

Hiraya loses their sense of time as soon, even the Counts no longer consult them. The last was a loud man, from a military background screaming at them, at his court, flashing his golden arm loudly exclaiming
"WHY WOULD I NEED THIS MIRROR FOR ADVICE??? I GIVE BETTER ADVICE!! AND I SAY WE ATTACK!!"

Chapter Text

Hiraya has clairvoyance. They don't see the future as ribbons tangling with each other, flowing wildly in the wind, no. They see it as a noose, and they're waiting for it to tighten around their neck enough to end it all. And with the ritual looming close, they needn't wait long. But still, there was so much more to see. So much more to witness so with their power, they looked, looked as deep as they could into the future. Only to find another woman, who was perhaps just as lonely as they were.

Nadia is walking around the palace halls, it's been 2 years into this marriage. She was promised that she would find growth in Vesuvia, opportunity, a chance to prove herself. But here she is, isolated and desolate. Lucio promised to listen to her, let her have a voice in his court but all she was was silenced as this was not her place, she is not from here. She has no power over him as he talks over her along with the courtiers. He's had time to establish himself amongst Vesuvian aristocracy and so far, all she is is his wife. Wandering the older parts of the palace, she finds herself drawn to an odd collection of grimoires belonging to one "Hiraya Manawari" the pages are yellowed and old and the covers are dusty. The language it was written in was ancient, she would have not been able to read any of its passages had she not been educated. Still, it felt wrong to pry into something as intimate as a grimoire. However, she reasoned with herself. Surely the person who wrote this is long gone and would not at all be bothered with her reading.

Aside from the mysterious glyphs, spells, and meticulous sketches of some familiar architecture, this was a normal diary. Talking about how their days were as Countess, a few bits of palace gossip about people she will never have the chance of meeting, and...isolation. Nadia couldn't help but see pieces of herself in them as they spoke of their position, how their power may grant them the finest of wines but no company to go with it. But then, there's this one line that stuck out to her
"Nadia dearest, isn't it rude to pry?"
Confused, she skips a few pages only for her eyes to land on yet another message for her
"You look so beautiful when you're confused. Stay with me, will you?"
Hiraya knew they would die, and Nadia was a small comfort they had. They spent their days watching her across oceans of time, scribbling down their compliments and banter, making fun of other people they've only seen visions of. Though deep inside, simply seeing her wasn't enough. They wanted to hold her, to hear her voice, to simply be next to her. Every spare time they had from helping Prospero, they would sit, next to the spot they know she'll be in when she reads their grimoires centuries later, writing their messages. But soon....they had to say goodbye

"As I write this, I sit beside you. Time is the only thing keeping us from meeting, my dearest.
I'm afraid this would have to be goodbye. I can see you, lifting your head up gazing down on the spot where I sit to write.
You're asking why, flipping through the next pages only to see blanks. Why does this need to end so soon?
You see, this simply has to be done....."
"You're crying, aren't you dear? Forgive me...please forgive me. If only I could change this, find another way....
A breeze just passed me, it sounded like weeping. Was that you? Oh how I wish I could reach out and wipe those tears away
I could see more tears streaming down your face. It feels as if someone drove a spear through my chest"
"You must be wondering, am I afraid?
Surprisingly not.
Whatever happens to me, you could still come back to the first page, we could start over, you can meet me again and I would be there. Waiting for you
For all it's worth, I'd like you to know...I wouldn't have changed a thing.
I'm proud to help build a world where you would soon live in.
Even when you close this cover and all I've done in this world is over, it would all be worth it.
A revelation just came to me as I write to you. The words would not change, but I'll still be there. Everything we had would come back.
I love you. I've always wondered how it would be like, to know you, to be able to be beside you, to hold your hand...
Your vision is growing hazy...are you saying anything? This grimoire, it's yours now. You could do with it as you please.
Until then, remember; I was here. I lived, I laughed, I cried, I got sick, and I loved people. I love you. Do you love me?
Please, Nadia, Dearest. Be the hero. Close this book, Come back and make more entries, make this your story."
-Hiraya Manawari

The yearning Nadia felt, what a tragedy it is to fall for someone who lived so long in the past...
She comes back to read the pages again, smiling at their victories, sympathizing with the angrier rants written in messier print, Falling in love one word at a time.
And for a while, the grimoire was the most valuable thing for her, a friend, someone to listen to and sympathize whenever she felt lonely.
This is her grimoire, it was made for her centuries before she even existed.

She reads about them having a portrait done. She makes it her mission to find this portrait, so she could put a face to the name that often haunts her lips
After days of searching, she finally finds it in the older parts of the palace. She stares in awe at who they were, wanting to touch the painting, but at the same time afraid to ruin it, the only image left of them, a faint echo of a time deep into the past. The painting itself is distorted, it's been damaged by time, by being sealed away as if someone wanted people to forget them. Most of the paint has browned so she is left to wonder what they looked like based on the little clues she got from this painting. Unsatisfied, she explores deeper and to her surprise and delight, she is faced with a life sized statue. She traces the statue's face, committing the details to memory as she sizes them up, wondering if they would have fit on her lap. Soon finding herself flirting and teasing with the cold, unmoving stone.

Nadia fantasizes about this figure hardly ever mentioned or spoken about in history classes, wondering how it would be like to be close to them, to know them, and mourning over the fact that she may never know. She goes around again, venturing deeper into the palace hoping to find more until she finds herself faced with a mirror. Unlike everything she's seen in this wing, this mirror is pristine, untarnished and well taken care of. She marvels at the intricate carvings around its frame and orders a few servants to carry it to her room.

Unaware of the trapped mage inside

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Hiraya sits there in silence, not noticing that someone is once again gazing into the mirror. Staring into the wall, wondering, thinking, trying to assemble whatever sense there is left for them. But the more they think, the more confused they are.

There is nothing here for them, nothing at all. Those counts? Those whose pictures and portraits decorate the halls? They've known all of them.
But in a way, it's hilarious. They've been ignorant.
For example, when did those people leave? Have they ever left? They're not sure if they even met any of them.
All those memories of growing close, being their confidante, watching them grow and watching them age and deteriorate....
Were those all fantasies? Delusions they made to hold onto their sanity?
If that was true, then what do they have left?

Their thinking stops as they hear singing, piercing through their silence. The song lures them to once again gaze outside of the window to see...a room. Nothing like the offices and meeting rooms they're used to seeing, but an actual room. Made for comfort. And in the very focus and center is someone, a woman combing her hair. Despite their clairvoyance, they didn't see something like this coming. They're used to the poised, polished, Counts speaking to them like dignitaries, but they've never before have seen anyone be this...domestic. Does she know what she's using?

Unsure if they should inform her of their presence, they watch her. Just as they've watched everyone. They watch her in the most mundane of moments. Singing as she brushes her hair to get ready for bed, practicing her speeches, deciding on which outfit to wear for the day, sitting down as she quietly reads her books, It almost felt like...like she let them be with her, those moments. Where they simply watch in silence letting her go on with her day. They've been alone for so long that they never realized they were lonely.

They decided to speak up when she spoke about her problems, telling herself she can handle this, it's a simple problem. And they spoke, startling her but continuing on with what they were saying. Doing what they've been doing for thousands of years, giving her sound advice. The woman, albeit startled, approaches the mirror, asking who they are.
For the first time in many, many centuries, Hiraya does not know what to say. No one in generations of counts have asked them this simple question. Time corrodes memory and they do not know who they are, who they were, or even what their own face looks like.

Without a name, they ask her to provide her with one. A strange answer to the most mundane of questions, the woman pauses and says one word

"Hiraya" I will call you Hiraya." The name, it feels...right. Almost like an old friend.

"And what might I call you?" They inquired "Or shall I provide a name for you as well?"

The woman pauses amused before she says "It would be fair if you provided me one as well"

"Then I shall call you Paraluman, for you are my muse."

From then on, Paraluman covers their mirror unless she needed to consult them, but those short consultations turned into short conversations, and those conversations grew longer and longer until the cover was completely discarded. No one has talked freely and openly to them as Paraluman did. And it was refreshing for her to have such undivided attention. Growing up, she's always had to share the scene with her sisters and now she has to fight for her voice to be heard in court as they all jump into Lucio's next party or campaign. The servants avoid her too, but Hiraya....they feel different. As if she can tell them anything.

"My name, my true name is Nadia Satrinava" She tells them. Quietly waiting for an answer

Once again, they were surprised. It was one thing to give them a name, but now she's giving them her name. They carry it in their lips, practicing. Doing their best to get it right.

"Thank you, Nadia."

Nadia loved placing things in front of the mirror hoping they would see. And they did, they were always there. Watching. She sits in front of them for hours as she reads them her books, she shows them art pieces she was fond of to see when she leaves for work. And they were always there, staring into the window, soaking up every bit of information Nadia shows them. She soon introduced them to Chandra. Though Chandra doesn't understand why Nadia was talking to a mirror without a reflection, she looked happy. Explaining little things to this mirror who often answered back with more questions. They were always giving her their full attention. Not as a superior, but as a friend.

People have begun to wonder why she spent so much time in her room. Some thought that she's finally closed herself off from the world. The court or her husband didn't care to look into it. As long as she isn't in their way and objecting to his parties and statues. No one knew of the bond she was making with the mage inside the mirror. Nadia is foreign to Vesuvia. She gets immersed into their rants about its history and how it could have gone differently is such and such had been followed, their opinions on past rulers and their courts, and they listen to her as she tells them of the world beyond Vesuvia, about how much has changed since they last remember it. Entire countries they thought they would last forever not even a familiar thing to her ears. So much has disappeared, but many more things have come fill in those spaces. They can hardly believe it, a new world...but is it real? Is she real?

Is Nadia...a lovely fantasy they made for themselves? To cope with all the loss and emptiness? She's there, they can see her very clearly. But is merely seeing someone proof of their existence? Would disbelief in them make them disappear? She's....she's the only...no. Unless she's another one of their delusions.

Does it matter if she is? Her visits to them are the only times....they feel stable. They feel like they can be themselves. For once....they don't know.

"Nadia...I....I...I..I.." they stammer, trying to collect their thoughts

"Yes, darling?" She asks them; they pause.

"I use this word so unconsciously

What does "I" mean? What does it refer to? My body? or perhaps my thoughts?

Would thought matter? Is thought matter?

If you halved the mirror right now which half would I reside in? If all the cells in my body would swap places would I be an optical illusion?

The same goes for thoughts, no. Those are less certain. How could I be sure that my thoughts are my own? Those can belong to someone else I have imagined.

If I am not my body or my thoughts, then perhaps my interactions? Am I defined by my relation to the world?

If no one is here to perceive me...do I cease to exist? If that is true...I can only despair. Within this world only emptiness defines me.

With this world as all I know, I might as well be dead.

Nadia....Paraluman...If I do not exist without anyone to perceive me...where do I go when you are not here?"

Silence fills the room as she looks into them....is she even looking at them? Has she ever seen them?

"Hiraya....do you want anything? If you do, all you need is ask"

Ask, that's all they've been doing but if there's anything they want....

"I want to be with you...I want to be free. Let me out, Nadia"