Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fire. That was all Vash could see — fire everywhere, burning to the ground everything he ever loved. The palace walls of the only home he’d ever known were completely consumed, the ceilings roiling with heat. The burning beam that had fallen and pinned him to the floor was far too heavy for a child as small as him to move on his own. The smell of burning meat was enough to tell him that the last thing he wanted to do was look at the arm pinned beneath the fallen beam.

It was agony lying there, feeling like he was just waiting to die. His ear stung where one of his earrings had been ripped out and his arm… well if he made it out of this, he was pretty sure that there wasn’t much left to save of his arm.

He wanted to scream, but each time he tried, smoke filled his lungs, choking more air from him. The longer he lay on the hall floor, the more sure he became that no one was coming to save him.

“Don’t cry, ” Knives had told him when they parted a few weeks before, “I’ll only be in July for a few months — hardly anything at all.”

“But then you’ll go away again!” Vash had sobbed. “You’re always going away and I’m stuck here. I want to go to school too!”

“When you’re healthier,” Knives had told him. “We’ll go to July together soon. I promise.”

Nai, Vash thought now, mind going hazy and unclear as the pain ripped through him. I’m sorry.

***

TEN YEARS LATER

“Sixty, seventy, eighty…” Eriks counted out his roll of bills, organizing them into little stacks, each word coming out as a visible cloud in front of his mouth. “One hundred! Totalling in… five hundred!” 

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down Eriks’ spine. It was a shiver of anticipation, excitement, and perhaps, just a little bit of fear.

“I did it!” he whispered to himself. “I really saved up enough! I can actually go!”

“And where exactly is this place that you think you’re going?” A deep voice demanded from behind him. 

“Nowhere!” A little guiltily, Eriks whipped around, hiding the bundle of bills behind himself.

“Yeah?” Brad asked, looking utterly unconvinced. “And does this ‘nowhere’ look anything like December?”

Eriks winced. “Maybe.”

While they technically lived in the limits of December, the third district where Brad and Luida’s farm lay was so far from the heart of the city that it might as well have been a different city entirely. No one in the district even really considered themselves part of December.

December, the shining metropolis that Eriks only knew of in theory. He had no memory of the place, or even of anywhere beyond about five square miles from the farm. Not, of course, that that meant too much — half of his life was a complete blank slate after all.

Five years ago, when Eriks came of age to start an apprenticeship, though not quite old enough to be kicked out of the orphanage, it was Brad and Luida who owned a nearby farm that took him under their wing. Even back then, Eriks was well aware that they could have found much better help for what they were paying him — after all a farm hand with only one hand could only be so useful. He had been grateful though for their kindness and so he worked as hard as he could; he took care of the horses and helped with the farm even learned some blacksmithing for Brad when the man was feeling inclined to teach him. Then, a couple years ago when Eriks aged out of the orphanage, they had insisted he stay on as a farm hand, even offering to let Eriks live in the carriage house. 

Of course, Eriks could leave at any time, it just felt ungrateful to do so. Brad and Luida had given him so much without expecting anything in return and now Brad had caught him in the middle of counting his money like he was about to run away into the night.

“So you’re finally leaving us,” Brad said with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Were you even planning on saying goodbye?”

“Of course, I—” Eriks started before being cut off by another voice.

“He’s teasing you,” Luida said, appearing in the doorway as well. “You’re going to December, right? To look for your family.”

“Yes,” Eriks said, heartbeat quickening at the mere thought that reuniting with his family might finally be within grasp. At long last, he’d managed to save up enough to go into the city and just maybe find someone who might know something about his past.

“You know it’s unlikely you’ll find any answers, right?” Brad asked.

“I know,” Eriks said, reaching up to fiddle nervously with the gold earring that hung in his left ear. “I’m going to look anyway. There’s always a chance.”

“You don’t have to be such a downer, Brad,” Luida chastised, smacking the man lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m just saying, he shouldn’t get his hopes up!”

“You’ll find them,” Luida reassured, ignoring Brad and coming over to sit next to Eriks on his bed. “Then you’ll bring them back here so we can meet them as well, right?”

“Of course!” Tears pricked at Eriks’ eyes. True, he’d already moved out of the orphanage a couple years ago, but leaving the farm felt like leaving the only home he had ever really known. 

“Good,” Brad said, coming over and patting Eriks awkwardly on the shoulder. “You better come back. You haven’t even finished your blacksmith training. I can’t have an apprentice of mine going around besmirching my name by not even being able to make a decent pair of horseshoes.”

“Really, Brad,” Luida said reproachfully, putting her arm around Eriks’ shoulders in a half hug. “You could at least be honest.”

“It’s all right!” Eriks reassured, wiping away any tears before they could fall. There was no reason to cry — after all, this wasn’t goodbye forever. “Who knows? Maybe I will find a new master to teach me and come back a better smith than you.”

“Why you ungrateful brat,” Brad took his hand from Eriks’ shoulder and ruffled his hair a bit harder than necessary. “Maybe you don’t deserve your going away present after all!”

“Going away present?” Eriks asked, glancing between the other two. “But I didn’t tell you I was leaving.”

“We knew you were saving up to go,” Luida said with a squeeze. “You were always meant for great things.”

“Hold on.” Brad left for a moment before coming back carrying a paper wrapped package. “Now I know it’s not the nicest out there, but this isn’t exactly my specialty so you better not complain.”

Curious, Eriks took the package from Brad, surprised to find it slightly lighter than he was expecting. If Brad had made it, no doubt it would be made of iron, which meant something this size should be quite heavy. 

Eriks undid the string around the hastily wrapped parcel. He meant to catch the paper before he let it fall to the ground, but any thoughts to do so were immediately squashed the moment he set eyes on the present.

“Brad, you…” Those tears that had been in his eyes a moment before made a swift return, one spilling down his cheek. “You made this?” 

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” Brad said, looking away, cheeks growing pink. “I know they have fancier ones that can move and stuff in the city, but—” 

“It’s beautiful,” Eriks said, picking up the metal prosthetic arm and inspecting it closer. Thin sheets of metal bent carefully around each other, mimicking the size and shape of his remaining forearm all the way to his hand. It was delicate work, especially getting the metal thin enough as to minimize the weight. No doubt it was the result of hours of meticulous labor, all for him.

“You don’t need to cry about it.” Brad’s face was going beet red at this point. “Just try it on and tell me if it fits.”

“I’m sure it will,” Eriks said, wiping at his face. 

“You’re going to find everything you’ve ever dreamed of,” Luida said, taking the prosthetic from Eriks and starting to attach it to his shoulder for him. “And even more.”

Eriks only hoped it was true. He didn’t have too many clues to his past, but the one he did have lay in the heart of the city of December — the palace in which he was found. 

Though it was only about a four hour bus ride from the outskirts where the farm and orphanage were located to the center of the city, Eriks had never made it before. At first it was because he was young and not allowed to travel that far on his own. Then, money was too tight to afford an expensive fare like that. After he started working for Luida and Brad he decided if he was going to bother going to the city, he might as well have enough money to afford to stay for a while and do some investigating. 

Perhaps it was a slight bit of cowardice that prevented him from going for the past couple years. To sit around and imagine what it might be like to walk into the city and suddenly learn everything about his past was one thing — to go and confront a decade’s worth of dreams was another. 

That didn’t matter though; what mattered was that he was doing it. He wasn’t running away.

Somewhere down this road, he would find the answers he had spent years longing for.

“Shit,” Wolfwood muttered, clicking his lighter for the dozenth time. 

While he knew his lighter was probably just low on fuel, he couldn’t help but feel like December had something to do with it not working. The city always seemed to have a special way of making everything go badly. It was fine though — he wouldn’t be here long. All he needed was his golden ticket out of this hell hole and today, he would find it.

Finally, the fire at the end of his lighter flickered to life just long enough for Wolfwood to light his cigarette. Perhaps it was a little distasteful, holding auditions to find someone to play the part of the missing prince inside the burnt out remains of the palace, but it was also free so who cared?

“There has to be one decent actor in all of December,” Wolfwood said to himself, blowing out smoke. “I only need one.”

One cigarette and then he was giving up for the night and going home. Another day wasted talking to incompetent and talentless actors.

For the dozenth time that day, Wolfwood pulled the letter he had received from Livio out of his pocket.

Nico,

I managed to get hired as a guard at the grand duchess’ house and have settled in well. It seems like her nephew is insisting on taking over the interviews though and he’s significantly less trusting. Also, I don’t know how I feel about this plan any more. The grand duchess is a very nice woman, it feels wrong to take advantage of her.

Livio

Then, for the dozenth time that day, Wolfwood crumpled up the letter and shoved it back in his pocket. Installing Livio in the woman’s house was supposed to make this all go easier and now Wolfwood was starting to worry that he’d have to find someone to fool Livio as well. 

Livio, his softhearted brother who always wanted to do right by the rest of the world, even when the rest of the world had never done right by either of them.

The palace, it turned out, was only about a ten minute walk from where the bus dropped Eriks off in downtown December. Though in the middle of a work day, the streets were bustling with city folk going about their business while the cars quizzed by far too close together for Eriks’ comfort. 

The heart of the city, it seemed, was a far cry from the spacious outskirts Eriks was used to. It was honestly a relief by the time he finally got to the palace and wedged himself through a gap in the boards that kept the gates closed.

The area around the old abandoned palace was almost alien in its overgrown stillness. Whereas the city around it was loud and busy, the foliage that seemed like it was trying to consume the palace dampened any noise, creating a bubble of calm. There was a certain sort of wild beauty to the tangled mess of plants, unconfined and taking back the land that mankind once sought to control.

Overgrown hedges made the palace grounds look like something out of a fairytale — the kind where monsters ate little children and princes got turned to stone for the rest of their lives. It was almost enough to scare Eriks away, but his insatiable hunger for knowledge of his own past kept him rooted. 

I’m not leaving, he swore to himself. Not before I have any hints about where to go next.

Eriks wandered the grounds, exploring what had no doubt once been immaculately manicured gardens, now overrun with weeds. There are scorch marks everywhere from the stone paths to the building itself — reminders of the tragedy that had befallen the place a decade ago. 

For a moment, his attention was drawn to an annex to the side of the main palace, attached by an open air walkway. Though larger than Luida and Brad’s home, it looked almost diminutive in the shadow of the enormous building. It had too many windows to be a storehouse or something like that, though without getting closer and looking inside, its exact purpose was unclear. Something about it called to him, making him take several steps forward before he stopped himself.

I shouldn’t be wasting time like this, he scolded himself. I need answers, not to just wander aimlessly.

The annex was far too nice looking for it to possibly have anything to do with him — likely a wing for a more peripheral member of the royal family. According to the doctor who treated him as a child, Eriks was found by the kitchens of the palace, though if he was a kitchen boy or some other servant was unclear. Even if he didn’t work in the kitchens though, they were as good of a place to start his search as any. 

I wonder how easily I might even be able to find the kitchens, Eriks thought, looking up at the imposing palace. I might end up wandering throughout the whole thing before I stumble upon the kitchens.

The idea of illegally entering once royal property made something in Eriks’s belly flip excitedly. There’s something else inside him as well though; something inside the palace that beckoned him in just as the annex did. It was like a song that hovered on the edge of his mind, pulling him in.

Entering the palace, Eriks quickly found that he was right; the place felt more like wandering through a maze than it did like exploring a proper building. Rooms led into other rooms which led into even more rooms, all of which seemed to connect to their own halls as well. 

Soon, instead of the kitchens, Eriks found himself in what must have once been a grand ballroom.

Even half crumbling, the hall was stunning — ceilings with elaborate paintings looked down on him, intricately carved crown molds along the tops of the walls, and several paintings that were lovingly done, though obviously too damaged for looters to bother with. It seemed that anything left by the royal family that might have retained any real value had long since been removed by light fingered explorers. Still though, what remained spoke of a tasteful balance between lavishness and elegance.

To one side of the hall, a piano caught Eriks’ eye — one of the few fully intact things in the room. Though whole, it was more than a little worse from wear and Eriks could understand why exactly no one had bothered with it. Where what was surely once a stunning instrument, now sat something so burned and broken that Eriks was afraid to so much as touch it, lest it turn to dust beneath his fingertips.

Still though, there was an itch in the back of his mind, the fingers of his right hand flexing as he fought off the urge to go over and sit at the bench.

In the back of Eriks’ mind, a piano piece began to play. It wasn’t one he could remember ever listening to, but each note came just the same — a melody performed by two sets of hands working in tandem.

As he drifted about the room, he began to hum along. 

What was it like when this place was full of life? He wondered. 

He felt like he could just about picture it. In his mind, the ballroom was full of masked party goers — women in gowns that went all the way to the floor and men in perfectly tailored tuxedos. It wouldn’t have been stuffy though. No, there would have been children running around as well, getting under foot and causing the dancing adults to trip over them, laughing all the while. 

He could almost see himself running amongst the other children, chasing sisters, both older and younger, all laughing together. 

In his mind, Eriks danced among the party goers, each one excitedly greeting him as he met their eyes. He was wanted here, loved by all. 

A woman with long black hair and a sweet smile tapped him on the shoulder and pointed across the room to a man who was coming toward him. He was tall, with platinum blond hair and a soft smile that seemed for Eriks’ eyes only. There was something about him that felt so unexplainably familiar and Eriks felt sure that if only he could remove the mask that covered the top half of the man’s face, he’d know it.

Who are you? Eriks wanted to ask. Who are you to me?

The man only smiled though, twirling Eriks in a way that made his head spin. He was close, so close to remembering it all, he just knew it. At the end of this dance he’d take the mystery man’s mask off and he’d know. 

“Hey!” a voice called, breaking whatever spell had taken over Eriks’ body, the music that was playing in his mind coming to a stuttering halt, his dance partner melting away and leaving the charred ruins of a portrait of the royal family in his place. “What are you doing here?”

Eriks turned, prepared to run when a strong hand gripped his bicep. Damn, was he really so in his head that he hadn’t remotely noticed the man approaching him? 

“Don’t you know that the palace is off limits to…” the man started before trailing off when Eriks turned to face him. The man was tall, though not taller than Eriks himself, with messy black hair and wearing an even messier suit.

“I’m sorry!” Eriks instantly apologized. “I didn’t mean to trespass, I swear! Or, I suppose I knew I was, but I wasn’t planning on stealing anything or damaging the palace or anything like that! I promise!”

“Is that so?” the man asked, letting go of Eriks’ arm. “And what were you hoping to find here, if not something to take back with you and sell?”

“I…” Eriks bit his lip. His past wasn’t the business of this man’s, but if he was somehow connected to the palace, then perhaps there was a chance he might know something that could help unlock another clue? “I’m looking for something. Not to steal; I was looking for answers.”

“Answers?”

“Yes,” Eriks said. While he didn’t relish telling a stranger his life story, if he was going to do this, he needed to be brave. “You see, I was found here, a decade ago. I don’t have any memories before then and I was hoping that coming here might help me remember something.”

“A decade ago,” the man muttered, looking like he was talking to himself more than to Eriks. He looked up again, looking quizzically at Eriks before he began to walk around him, scanning him up and down. “After the rebellion stormed the palace and executed the royals?”

“Yes,” Eriks said, turning to try to continue facing the man who was circling him. “I’m sorry, do I have something on me?”

“No, no,” the man waved off. “You just look familiar is all. Very familiar.”

“Do I?” Hope swelled inside his chest. “Do you recognize me? Did we know each other?”

Instead of answering Eriks questions, the man replied with a question of his own.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look an awful lot like the missing prince, Vash?”

Eriks’ heart, which had soared at the idea that this man might be able to give him answers, plummeted. So, he hadn’t recognized Eriks after all, he just thought he found a look alike.

“No,” Eriks said with a sigh. 

“Well you do,” he said. “The spitting image, in fact.”

A deadend, Eriks thought, trying not to feel disappointed. He’d only gotten his hopes up for a moment, but he couldn’t help the sting of realizing that this man would be of no help.

“I’m sorry, if I’m not in trouble, I really should be going,” Eriks said, taking a step back. “I’m just trying to find my family, I’m not really interested in… whatever this is.”

“Wait,” the man said, grabbing Eriks’ arm again. “Just hear me out before you leave.” 

Eriks paused for a moment before giving in.

“All right,” Eriks said slowly. He really didn’t want to be wasting time talking to someone like this, but he couldn’t exactly be rude, now could he?

“You said you were looking for answers, right?” the man asked.

“Yes…” Eriks cautioned. 

“Well, so am I.”

“You are?”

“Yup. Namely, where the missing prince went and how best I might be able to return him to his family.”

“Well, I wish you luck on that endeavor, but,” Eriks began backing away, “I don’t think I can help you.”

“I think you can though. I think we can help each other.”

“I don’t really understand what you’re—” Eriks started before he was cut off.

“I think there’s a good chance that you might be Prince Vash,” the man said plainly. “You said you don’t remember your past, right? Then who’s to say you aren’t the missing prince?”

“I do,” Eriks said, bewildered.

“Look, come with me to July and meet the royal family. Isn’t it worth a shot? Even if you can’t remember, I’m sure they will.”

Something about mentioning the city July pulled at Eriks, making him pause in his retreat.

We’ll go to July together soon , the words bounced around in Eriks’ mind. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it felt like a memory. 

“You really think I could be the lost prince?” Eriks asked, eyeing the man.

“I don’t just think it,” Wolfwood said, “I know it.”

“And how would you know such a thing?”

“Simple,” Wolfwood said with a shrug. “I knew the prince; knew you.”

“Really?” Eriks was a bit taken aback by that. “You don’t seem the type to mingle with princes.”

“That’s a little rude for someone with dirt on their face.”

Eriks swiped at his face, pulling his hand away to reveal dirt.

“I fell!” He defended himself. He was pretty sure he had anyway, even if he couldn't actually remember doing so.

“Sure you did, your highness. Anyway, I wasn’t claiming to be royalty or anything like that. I was a servant — a kitchen boy. You used to sneak into the kitchen late at night to snack.”

I was found by the kitchens, Eriks recalled. Perhaps I was there to get food rather than working?

It was an impossible option, he supposed. The idea sent his head spinning. Even if he had known he was found in the palace though, he’d never supposed himself to be royalty.

“You really think it could be me?” Eriks asked, turning to look at the portrait that still hung in the shambles of the great hall. It was burned badly enough for thieves to have not bothered with it, but a few of the children’s faces were still visible. Only one of the boy’s faces were unburned enough to make out — a child with wide, down tilted blue eyes sat on the bench, staring out at the viewer. 

“I do,” Wolfwood said. “And even if I didn’t know him, you look just like him. Anyone with eyes could see it.”

“I don’t remember them though.”

“You don’t have to remember, they’ll remember for you.”

It was a risk, a chance that could turn out incredibly wrong, but… well July wasn’t terribly far from December and if there was a chance this man could be right, Eriks had to take it.

“If it turns out that you’re wrong and I’m not Vash, will you take me back to December?” Eriks cautioned. 

A grin that Eriks wasn’t entirely sure he trusted broke out across the man’s face.

“I’ll pay for the train ticket myself. First class even.”

Eriks chewed his lip. There was a large chance that he would regret this; after all the idea of him being a prince of all things felt incredibly absurd. However, he did come to the palace to try to learn about his past — he’d be a fool to turn down a lead that had fallen straight into his lap. Besides, there were no other paths forward that he could see.

I promised myself no turning away without any leads, Eriks reminded himself. I can’t ignore the first one I find.

“I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. It will be my honor to accompany you back to your family, Prince Vash .”

Back to my family, he thought.

“Before we go though, I haven’t even gotten your name.”

“Name’s Wolfwood,” the man said with a grin. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”

“You can call me Eriks,” Eriks replied. 

“Great. Now, how much money do you have for a train ticket?”

“I just feel so sorry for you, Nai,” Rem said, gazing down at the photo in her hands. It was one she kept with her at all times — a portrait of all the royal siblings, though Knives knew which sibling it was that she was looking at. “Vash was always too weak for the stuffy air of the inner castle or to go off to school with you; you barely even knew him. You would have loved him so much. He was such a wonderful boy.”

Knives had to take a deep breath before answering, reminding himself to be patient. 

“I know, Aunt. The world is less for his absence.”

Despite the opulence of the grand duchess' inner chambers, Knives could feel his discomfort rising. He longed for nothing more than to return to his own quarters.

“He was always smiling and so eager to help with things. He’d actually jump from joy any time you returned from school and was melancholy for weeks whenever you left him.”

“I remember.”

“Did you know that he loved those… oh what were they called again? Those fried pastries that he liked.”

“Donuts,” Knives answered. “He liked donuts.”

“Yes!” Rem exclaimed. “Those! He always got the sugar all over the place too, but he was so happy that I could never say no when he asked for them.”

“He used to beg the maids to bring them to him in secret,” Knives recalled.

“Oh, he was such a sweet boy,” Rem sighed. “Do you remember that time when he accidentally locked himself in the greenhouse and ended up eating off the petals on half of my geranium flowers before one of the kitchen boys finally found him?”

“Of course,” Knives said. “He had said that he thought since they made him so happy to look at, they should make his stomach happy too.” It was a story Knives had heard a dozen times over.

“He ate so many, it was a wonder it hadn’t made him ill!”

Before the conversation could continue, a knock on the door drew both occupants’ attention.

“Come in, come in,” Knives called, already standing. 

“Your highness?” Livio, one of the new guards, opened the door. “The prince’s valet is here to see him.” 

“What is it?” Knives asked as Legato entered the room behind the guard. 

“The new round of interviews starts tomorrow,” Legato reminded him. “If we want to make sure we can begin on time, we might want to go over to the hotel tonight.”

“Of course. Ready the car.” Knives said before turning to his aunt. “I’m afraid I must go.”

“I feel hopeful this time,” Rem said, looking up from the fading photo. “I can feel it in my bones that something is different. Don’t you, my dear?”

Knives knelt by his aunt’s side, taking her hand in his. 

“It has been a very long time,” he reminded her.

“I know,” she waved off, “I just know he’s out there somewhere though, yearning to be reunited with his dear family.”

Knives didn’t further try to dissuade his aunt’s fanciful notions. There was no point really; if she still held out this much hope even now, a decade later, then there wasn’t much he could do. 

“I’ll meet with them,” he said. “Only when I’m sure we found him, will I bring him to you.”

“You’re such a darling boy,” Rem reached out, placing a hand on the side of her nephew’s cheek. “You remind me so much of Vash. You’ll love him when he finally returns to us.”

“I’m sure I will.” Knives stood then and made for the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, my dear.”

Knives didn’t exactly flee, but he wouldn’t deny that his pace was perhaps a bit faster than was strictly polite as he left the grand duchess' inner apartments. He didn’t bother even stopping by his own rooms, just went straight for the car. Anything he might need, he could always send Legato back to the house later to collect. 

He hated that, the way Rem talked about Vash as if only she knew him — as if Vash wasn’t his brother. He hated even more that she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Vash might have been his twin, but it was Rem he was closest to. Unlike Knives or their sisters, Vash had been born with a poor constitution and weak lungs. He’d fared far better in the annex on the edge of the castle grounds that Rem, the sister to the king, lived in. It was airier and smaller and allowed for their aunt who had no children of her own, to dote on her nephew incessantly. 

It wasn’t that Knives hadn’t enjoyed spending time with Vash, rather that circumstances rarely allowed him to. As heir to the throne, Knives was often kept far too busy to have time for anything that wasn’t outside of his official duties.

Piano lessons were one of the few times Knives regularly saw his brother. Whenever Knives thought of his brother, he thought of his hands first. Even when they were young, Vash’s hands had been smaller than his own, fingers thin and skin pale from rarely leaving the castle. In Knives’s dim memories, Vash had been a little gawky — his illness keeping him thin and his natural clumsiness meaning he always had scrapes and bruises.

His hands though, had been beautiful, dancing across the keys as he sat beside Knives. Knives had probably spent more time looking at Vash’s hands than he had his face. 

He hated it, how apart he was kept from someone who felt almost like a part of his very being. The only solace he found was in the idea that someday, he’d be king and no one could tell him what to do ever again. He’d spend all day playing with his brother and there would be no school or adults to pull them apart.

Then, of course, their empire was burned to the ground and Knives never did get the chance to know the brother that he had cared so deeply for. 

Now, it was just him and his aunt.

Truthfully, outside of visiting Vash, he’d never spent much time with his aunt. Now, she was the only family he had left and she spent all of her time obsessing over a boy long dead. Sometimes it felt like a part of his aunt had died right alongside the rest of their family. 

Sometimes it felt like a part of Knives did too. All those plans for the future, all those hours spent studying how to rule an empire, all the responsibility to put everyone before himself, burned right alongside their home. Even his title of prince was little more than a show of respect for what he once was — a reminder of what he had lost. After all, what was a prince with no empire to rule?

In one day, Knives had lost his family, his future, his entire world. 

“Your highness?” Legato cautioned, breaking Knives from his musings. “We’re here.”

“Finally.” Getting out of the car, Knives made his way to the front of the hotel. 

Ostensibly, Knives was staying at the Hopeland Hotel for the convenience of interviewing “candidates,” though the truth was, sometimes he just needed a break from that house. Vash might never have set foot in it in life, yet it was haunted by his ghost all the same. 

In the hotel, Knives held two extended reservations. The first was for a room where they met with the shameless charlatans who came to dazzle and deceive — after all it would do no good to invite these people into Rem’s place of residence. Then, there was the second room that had been Knives’ safe haven for a little over a year now — a room where he had to be no one but himself. Not the devoted nephew nor the tragic prince, just Knives. Who that was exactly, he was still trying to remember.

“Interviews start tomorrow,” Legato reminded him as they entered the extravagant building.

“Don’t remind me,” Knives said, rubbing his forehead. It may have been at his insistence that he interview candidates before they met Rem, but that wasn’t because he wanted to. After yet another person who Rem had put her hopes into inevitably revealed themselves to be a liar and broken her heart, Knives had enough.

Knives wasn’t naive though — he understood that his brother was dead.

Chapter Text

After some negotiating of how much of Eriks’ ticket he should pay for himself (which, seeing as the whole thing was Wolfwood’s plan, he felt like the answer should be none) the pair ended up leaving that very night. They boarded the sleeper car together, Eriks triumphant while Wolfwood grumbled about how he was the one helping Eriks out and how Eriks should really be more grateful about the whole thing.

“Oh shit,” Wolfwood said, watching as Eriks’ shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto the bench beside himself. 

“What?” 

“You’re missing an arm.”

“Yes?” Eriks asked, instinctively grabbing his shoulder. “Is that a problem?”

He was used to people staring at him, though he supposed that now with the prosthetic, it was no longer instantly noticeable that he only had one working arm. 

“It’s not a problem ,” Wolfwood said, looking like he did in fact think it was a problem. “Just… maybe keep the prosthetic on while we’re meeting everyone. It would fit the image of a prince better.”

“Everyone?” he asked, realizing he wasn’t actually sure who he was on the train to meet. Truthfully, even if he was found in the palace, Eriks was so sure that he was a servant of some kind that he had never had much interest in the royal family that fell before any of his memories began. He knew some survived, but he wasn’t too sure which ones.

“Yeah. The main person that we’re traveling to see is the Grand Duchess Rem, your aunt. She was the one who raised Vash — raised you, I mean. You were in poor health as a child and needed extra attention and she was the one who took over most of your care. From what I remember, she was basically a mother to you.”

A mother. Just the idea of meeting someone who might feel like Eriks’ mother made his heartbeat double.

“We will be going straight to see her then?”

“Um…” Wolfwood looked out the window, messing with his hair a little as he took a moment to answer, “sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“We have to make a quick stop first,” he said.

“A stop?” Eriks blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“No one sees the grand duchess without seeing someone else first.”

“I thought you were taking me to see my family, I don’t understand.”

“I am, I am!” Wolfwood reassured him. “It’s just, your aunt won’t be the first. First, we need to see Prince Knives. The twin brother. No one sees Rem without first proving themselves to him unfortunately.”

“I have a twin?” Eriks asked, stunned by the idea. “Isn’t that good? If I am Vash, then he should know me instantly.”

Wolfwood made a face that did not inspire much confidence in Eriks, especially with the feeling of the train lurching forward around them. There was no turning back now.

“Well, theoretically yes, but in practice, it might be a bit harder than that,” Wolfwood admitted. “You see, though Prince Knives might be your twin brother, you two didn’t actually spend much time together growing up so he would be less likely to be able to recognize you on site. He was often away at school and besides, he was also a child at the time and children’s memories are not the best. It’s not only that, but the prince has grown rather protective of his aunt and with so many imposters pretending to be the missing prince, he can be quite harsh with them. He turns down most people claiming to be Vash without even meeting them.”

“So I won’t be able to meet the grand duchess without getting the approval of the prince first?” Eriks clarified. He reached up, playing nervously with his earring.

“Correct. Which means you should probably do some studying. Your aunt might believe the story of you having lost your memory, but there’s no way Prince Knives will buy such a tale. He’s quite distrusting and even if he does feel that he recognizes you, he’s the type who is unlikely to trust his heart. Luckily for you, my knowledge of the royal family is extensive.”

“Isn’t that dishonest though?” Eriks asked. “Me claiming to know things I don’t actually remember?”

“Not when you are actually Vash. I’m just helping you get past this hurdle. Once the Grand Duchess Rem sees you, I’m sure that she’ll recognize you in an instant.” 

“All right,” Eriks said. It felt strange, claiming that he remembered things he didn’t, but he could understand the prince’s hesitance to let anyone in. It must have been quite hard, having lost so much and still being surrounded by people lying about who they were. “How do you know all of this anyway?”

“My brother works at the grand duchess’ estate,” Wolfwood said. “And before you ask, no, he won’t smuggle us in to meet her.”

“I…” Eriks paused, blinking, “I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Good, because he already said he wouldn’t do it.” Wolfwood looked over at Eriks. “Since we’ll have the time, we should also probably work on your manners.”

“What’s wrong with my manners?” Eriks replied, a little offended.

“For one,” Wolfwood reached over and smacked Eriks’ hand away from where he was still fiddling with his earring, “princes shouldn’t be so fidgety.”

***

The “prince lessons” Wolfwood had insisted upon turned out to be more memorizing lists of names and facts than anything else — things that Eriks should likely have known should he actually be the missing prince.

“It’s alright if some small details aren’t accurate,” Wolfwood said. “Like I said, children’s memories are bad. Focus on the names of family members and the things regarding your siblings — the types of things that would be suspicious to forget.”

It was only two days before the pair arrived in July; the sleeper train they were on only making stops to refuel. It wasn’t nearly enough time to remember everything, nor practice the whatever lessons in manners Wolfwood insisted Eriks needed to know, but apparently getting in to actually see the prince would be an ordeal in itself. Not only was there a long list that they would have to get on, but in order to do so, they would have to make the appointment in person first.

Eriks hadn’t realized that there were so many people who claimed to be the lost prince. He wondered how many were charlatans and how many were like himself — orphans with little memory of their pasts who were just hoping that someone might recognize them.

In truth, Eriks was looking forward to exploring the city while they waited for their appointment. That was not what happened though. On the slim chance that they would be accepted early, Wolfwood had Eriks waiting in the hotel lobby with the book of royals to study. A week in and he hadn’t actually seen anything outside of the grand hotel, the hotel he and Wolfwood were booked at, and the streets in between.

“Next,” Knives interrupted in the middle of a particularly bad actor’s impression of what he believed royalty to be like. The man wasn’t even blonde. 

“But I—” the ‘Vash’ started before being cut off again, this time by Legato.

“You heard his highness,” Legato said, already shooing the man out the door. “Out.”

To his credit, the man didn’t try to forcibly stay in the room like some of the others did, just grabbed his bag and stormed out. 

“I need a break,” Knives announced as soon as they were alone in the room, running his fingers through his carefully gelled back hair, breaking it apart and letting it fall messily around his face. 

“We have at least five more to go before—”

“I’m taking a break,” Knives said, already grabbing his suit jacket and heading for the door. “The rest can wait half an hour longer to lie to me.”

“I will let them know,” Legato said, picking up his list and checking over it once again. 

Eriks had never been very good at sitting still and spending a week sitting in the exact same spot with the exact same dry history book to read, wasn’t doing him any favors.

Driven by restlessness, Eriks slipped out of the hotel lobby he had been told to wait in and wandered the beautifully decorated hotel. High chandeliers glittered in any room big enough to host one and delicately carved marble lined the walls. The only place that Eriks had ever been that might have matched the beauty was his imagining of what the palace in December might have looked like before it had been half burned to the ground. 

So, he thought, this is the sort of place I belong. According to Wolfwood, anyway.

 It seemed ridiculous, that Eriks of all people could ever belong to a place as elegant and grand as this. Even if he was freshly washed and had been given a new coat and clothes without holes in them, he felt more out of place here than he had anywhere else. 

Before any staff had time to see him wandering the place and agree that he didn’t belong there, Eriks slipped through a side door, entering a large, empty room. Judging by the tables and small stage, Eriks assumed it probably was where dinner shows were put on. On stage was a beautiful white piano, its top glossy and pristine keys shining invitingly. A grand piano, in every sense of the word. 

Near the farm, there was a salon Eriks would occasionally sneak into that had a piano-forte that, while old, was well loved by the patrons. Then there had been a half crumbling one in the palace, that might have once been as lovely as this one, had it been in any shape to play. 

The piano wasn’t even the most attention grabbing thing in the room though. No, that was the man who sat on the bench before it in a matching white suit. Perhaps it was just the way the sun shone in through a skylight, illuminating the stage, but in the otherwise dimly lit room, the man almost seemed to glow.

Without really thinking about it, Eriks drifted forward, pulled toward the otherworldly figure.

As Eriks approached, he watched as the man began to play, music flowing from his fingertips. Eriks had never been much of a believer in the supernatural, but if someone told him just then that magic existed, he’d believe them. It wasn’t just that the music was beautiful — though it was — but the things it conjured inside himself, Eriks simply couldn’t explain. Something about the notes felt familiar, bringing forward a sea of emotions he couldn’t name, much less process so suddenly. 

Then, just as suddenly as the music had started, it stopped, leaving Eriks leaning forward, waiting for the rest of the melody to be played.  

“Legato, is it time?” The man asked, before turning to look down at where Eriks now stood at the bottom of the stage.

“I’m so sorry!” Eriks said, waving his hand in front of himself in a gesture that was caught somewhere between apology and pleading innocence. He was suddenly very aware that he had likely intruded on what must be the musician’s rehearsal. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I didn’t know anyone was in here when I came in and then you started playing and—“

“Are you alright?” The man asked, brows drawn together in… was that concern? 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re crying.”

“What? No I’m—“ Eriks touched his face, finding moisture there. “Oh.” He had been moved to tears by the music and he hadn’t even realized. 

“Are you alright?” The man repeated, standing from the piano and coming toward him.

“Of course. Sometimes music just gets to me,” Eriks said, rubbing away the remaining evidence of his tears. “It’s fine, really. All better now.”

“You don’t need to leave,” the man said. “Come here.”

Not sure what else to do, Eriks obeyed, stepping up onto the stage with the man. As he got closer and the man’s face came into better view, Eriks was shocked to find that the man looked familiar . He knew that face, even if he couldn’t place where. It made no sense though — there was no way someone obviously so finely dressed and talented would have ever associated with him before. 

“Do you play?” The man asked, gesturing toward the piano.

“No,” Eriks shook his head, even as his fingers itched to run across the keys. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I have some memory problems,” Eriks admitted, giving in and stroking a single digit lightly over the smooth polish of a key. “I might have known how to play a long time ago, but I can’t remember anymore.”

“Would you like to try?” The musician asked, gesturing to the bench. “Anyone who is moved to tears by only half a song, deserves to at least try their hand at creation.”

“No,” Eriks said, shaking his head sadly. He felt bad, turning the man down. The man must really love music to try to convince a stranger that he too could create magic. Or perhaps he was just lonely. If it was the second, Eriks thought he could relate, just a little. “Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you? You might discover you knew all along how to play.”

“Even if I used to, it wouldn’t do me much good now.” Eriks raised his right hand and waved. “I only have one hand now. The other’s a prosthetic.”

“I… see.” The musician suddenly looked uncomfortable, the way people who didn’t know anyone with missing limbs always did around Eriks. 

“It’s alright, really,” Eriks reassured him. “It was a long time ago.”

“Surely there are prosthetics that would allow you to play,” the man insisted. Eriks almost felt sorry for missing his arm if it meant this man couldn’t share his love of music, as he so obviously wished to. 

“I’ve heard of some advancements that let you move the fingers almost as easily as you would a flesh and bone hand,” Eriks said. 

“Then, why not get one and—“

“Money,” Eriks said, pure and simple. “Music is simply a luxury I cannot afford, I’m afraid.”

“I see.” The man looked troubled, truly so in a way that was starting to make Eriks feel guilty. 

“Look,” Eriks said, cutting into the man’s thoughts, “it’s all right. I still get to experience the pleasure of listening, so not all is lost.”

“Indeed,” he said.

“May I enquire who the composer is?” Eriks asked, trying to redirect the conversation into a more comfortable area. “Of the piece you were playing, I mean. It’s lovely.”

“It’s from an opera,” the pianist said, “ Carmen by Georges Bizet.”

“Oh? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about the opera; I’ve never actually seen a performance before.”

“The opera itself isn’t my favorite,” the pianist admitted. “A man falls in love with a disloyal woman and abandons all else in his life to chase her. In the end she doesn’t choose him and he goes mad out of jealousy and the need for revenge. It’s all a little tawdry for my taste.”

“Oh,” Eriks said, surprised. “Are you not a fan of the dramas then?”

“That’s not it,” the man said, laughing a little. “I just prefer the ones that don’t end with such a note of futility. Happy endings where the hero gets everything he wanted, I find far more appealing. Even if I don’t like the story though, the aria is beautiful.”

“It is,” Eriks agreed. “Have you played for a long time?”

“Most of my life. My siblings and I all learned young.”

That didn’t surprise Eriks. The man handled the instrument with the ease of not only a trained professional, but one who had done so for obviously over a decade.

Eriks was just about to say more when the sound of Wolfwood’s voice came through the open door, calling his name. 

“Sorry,” Eriks winced as he heard Wolfwood loudly repeating himself. “I was just wandering around while I waited for my friend and it seems that I might have wandered a little too far. I should probably get back to him before he disturbed the whole hotel.”

“I should get back as well,” the man said, checking his wrist watch. 

“It was nice to meet you, though,” Eriks said, hopping off the stage. “Sorry about interrupting your practice.”

“It was nice to meet you indeed,” the pianist replied. “I hope you get the opportunity to learn if you can play.” 

***

“That bastard,” Wolfwood muttered, lighting up yet another cigarette. “Just because he has control over who gets to meet the prince and who doesn't, he thinks that he can talk down to anyone who he thinks is below him.”

Eriks and Wolfwood had returned to the Jenora — the significantly cheaper hotel about a twenty minute walk from the Hopeland that they were actually staying in.

“It sounds very frustrating,” Eriks said for lack of anything better to say. He did feel bad that Wolfwood was going through all this trouble just for him.

“It is ,” he agreed. “Where were you anyway?”

“Oh! There was a man I was talking to. The hotel pianist I believe.”

Suddenly, Wolfwood’s full attention was on Eriks.

“Well, don’t go running off with any pianists while I’m busy getting an audience.”

“I won’t!” Eriks said, ducking his head with a blush.

“Good. Now, I need to figure out a way around that damn attendant of the prince’s,” Wolfwood rubbed at his temples. “Maybe I should try to just talk Livio into smuggling us in.”

“You really must learn to be quieter if you wish to watch me in secret,” Knives greeted a few days later from his place at the piano. This time, he’d been listening for the sound of someone entering the room and he heard the man as soon as he cracked the door open. Knives turned to where the man stood stock still, caught in the act.

“Apologies,” the young man said, blushing slightly — no doubt for having been caught spying yet again. Not that Knives minded of course. In truth, he’d been hoping to run into the music enthusiast again. 

“It is quite alright. I had wondered if you were going to return.”

“Yes well,” the man said, looking a little nervous. Reaching up, he pulled lightly on the earring that hung from one ear — a nervous tick no doubt. “We didn’t really get to finish our conversation, did we?”

“No, I suppose we didn’t,” Knives agreed. While they hadn’t exactly left in the middle of saying anything important, Knives also found that he had left their previous conversation wanting more.

“Also,” the man continued, “I realized I never got your name the other day and thought I should come back to do so. So as not to be rude, I mean.”

“My name is Kni—” Knives paused mid sentence. Was he really about to tell this random boy who he was? Perhaps the boy was a little too endearing for Knives’ own good.

“Nai?” the man said, tilting his head. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yes,” Knives agreed. It was a bit strange, listening to the name now only Rem called him by, but it would do. “And you are?”

“Eriks,” he said. Knives couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t add a last name. That was fine though, neither had Knives.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eriks,” he said. 

“You too!”

They stood there for a moment, neither making a move to leave before Knives decided that he might as well be the one to break it.

“Have you seen the garden?” Knives asked. 

“There’s a garden?” Eriks asked, wonderment in his eyes. 

“Indeed.” Knives should be getting back to his duties soon, but surely a small detour wouldn’t hurt. “Let me show you.”

From the hall they were in, it was only a short distance to the greenhouse where the gardens were housed. While they paled in comparison to the palace gardens of his childhood so even to Rem’s current garden, they were still lovely in their own quaint way. Roses of all colors grew in small bushes along the paths, mixed together with a variety over whatever was currently in bloom. Most importantly, there was a small pavilion in the center where the pair could sit. 

“This is beautiful,” Eriks said, looking around in awe. “I’ve never seen so many types of flowers before! And blooming in winter too!”

“In the summer there are even more outside,” Knives said, taking a seat. “The greenhouse does do quite a serviceable job at keeping these alive though.”

“More?” Eriks asked, turning back to Knives. 

“Yes,” Knives said, looking at Eriks quizzically. “Have you not been in July long? I swear, the place is practically crammed full of flowers.”

“I only got here recently.” Eriks looked a little abashed by his answer. “I’m from December originally. I’m afraid there’s not nearly as much greenery that grows there as there is here.”

“I see.” For a moment, Knives considered telling Eriks that he too was from December. If he did, that just meant there was a higher chance of Eriks recognizing him though and Knives was finding that he was rather enjoying the anonymity. It was quite nice, just getting to sit and talk like this. “How do you like it so far?”

“Oh, it’s…” Eriks trailed off. “Well, to be honest, I haven’t had much time to explore. I’ve mostly just been here everyday.”

“Not on vacation then?”

“Not exactly.”

“Am I keeping you from business then?” Knives asked.

“No, not really. Honestly, I’m not really here for business either. I’m in a bit of a strange place to be honest. In sort of a state of limbo. Waiting for answers.” 

“I… see,” Knives repeated. 

Eriks laughed. “Sorry, that’s pretty vague, isn’t it? It’s all a little complicated and a bit hard to talk about right now, but someday when it’s all settled, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I would very much like to get to know the elusive Eriks,” Knives said. “Someday, that is.”

That word hung between them. Someday. It was only their second meeting and yet, that promise of someday felt real — more real than most things in Knives’ life had in a while. 

“I’m not keeping you from anything am I?” Eriks asked.

“Yes and no,” Knives admitted. “There are things I should be doing, but you are not specifically the reason I am not at present doing them.”

“Ah,” Eriks grinned knowingly, “I’m the distraction then while you avoid work?”

“Something like that.”

“In that case, I shall do my utmost best to entertain,” Eriks promised. “How would you like to be entertained?”

“I thought you just volunteered to entertain me,” Knives said with a soft laugh. “Now I have to come up with it?”

“There’s only so much at my disposal!” Eriks defended. “What else do you suggest?”

“Tell me about yourself,” Knives said. “Not why you’re here if that’s too involved, just something about yourself.”

“All right,” Eriks said, frowning as he thought about it. “I once accidentally caused a cattle stampede and completely ruined the fence of the farm I worked on.”

Knives blinked in surprise. Whatever he had expected the man to say, that was certainly not it. Then, he laughed.

“How did that happen?” 

“Don’t laugh at me, it was really stressful at the time!” Eriks insisted, though his shoulders were shaking just as well. “As far as how it happened… well it’s complicated.”

“I’m beginning to think that things with you generally are.” Knives wasn’t sure he entirely minded it.

Later, when Knives was finally forced to return to the mind numbing agony of the interviews, it was with the image of Eriks in the middle of a field, looking confused and completely covered in mud. 

After their second meeting, it was another week before Eriks saw Nai again. He told himself that he wasn’t looking for the man, even as he poked his head into the hall with the piano repeatedly. It was a complete coincidence that he started going straight to the gardens to read and stayed there until Wolfwood came and fetched him at the end of each day. The way that his heart skipped a beat when he finally caught sight of Nai entering the garden was… well something he decided not to examine too closely.

“Nai!” Eriks said, getting up and rushing over to greet him. “It’s been a while!”

“That it has,” Nai said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Are you alright?” Eriks asked. While Nai wasn’t exactly looking poorly (Eriks doubted a man that handsome ever looked truly bad), he was a bit paler than usual with the hint of dark circles under his eyes. 

“Of course,” he said, “it’s just been a long week full of incredibly frustrating people. We don’t need to go into it.”

Eriks couldn’t help but wonder what kind of people a musician might have been busy with all week, but didn’t ask. If Nai didn’t want to talk about it, then they’d talk about something else. 

Before Eriks could say anything though, an embarrassingly loud noise came from his stomach.

“Have you eaten?” Nai asked, as if the answer wasn’t incredibly obvious. 

“Not yet.”

“If you would like, we could go to the dinning hall.”

“I…” Eriks paused. True, he was hungry, but it wasn’t like he could afford the decadent meals that the hotel kitchen provided. Besides, he and Wolfwood hadn’t even gotten to the table manners part of their lessons.

“Are you not hungry?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… Well, proper table manners can be a bit hard with one arm. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

“I’m sure it would be no embarrassment. Though, if you prefer, we could always eat here. My treat.”

Leaving Eriks waiting in the pavilion, Nai left and returned a few minutes later with a tray laden with sandwiches and desserts.

“I didn’t realize that you were allowed to take so many things from the kitchens,” Eriks said, staring in disbelief.

“If you know who to ask,” Nai said.

“How much was all of this?” Eriks was starting to feel guilty, looking at it all. Even if Nai had picked it out, it was surely too much to accept.

“Hm?” Nai looked down at the food, as if he was only just now considering the cost. “I’m not sure, actually. I don’t really have to pay for things like this at the hotel.”

It must be part of his compensation for working here, Eriks thought, some of his worries soothed. Like Brad and Luida feeding me.

Lunch ended up being spectacular — genuinely better than any he could remember having. As they ate, Nai’s mood seemed to steadily improve, his shoulders loosening and the tense line of his mouth softening. For his part, Eriks might have been a bit too enthusiastic in his consumption, because halfway through one of the tea cakes, he looked up to find Nai staring at him.

“Sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I?” Eriks said, ducking his head as he felt a blush coming on. “I did warn you that my table manners were no good.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nai said, reaching over and lightly putting his hand beneath Eriks’ chin and tilting his head back up. “Rather, it’s quite nice to see someone eat with such abandon. I don’t remember the last time I dined with someone who enjoyed their food so enthusiastically. You just have a bit of cream here.”

Fingers still holding Eriks’ head up, Nai used his thumb to wipe away a bit of cream that had stuck to the corner of Eriks’ mouth. Finally, he released his gentle hold on him, only to bring his thumb to his own mouth and lick it off.

Suddenly, the room felt several degrees warmer than it had before and Eriks found himself very jealous of a bit of cream.

“Seventeen,” Legato said later that evening. “ Seventeen new candidates have been added to the list, just today. Honestly, these people have no shame.”

“Indeed,” Knives agreed, though he wasn’t really listening. Instead, he was thinking about lunch. Had he really licked away the cream instead of wiping it with a napkin? It was so forward, far more than he ever was. Though, he’d also never encountered someone quite like Eriks, who inspired such actions. It had just felt so right in the moment and Knives honestly wasn’t sure if he’d do anything different, were he put into the same sort of situation again.

He is a dangerous one, isn’t he? Knives thought. He wasn’t sure he minded it though.

“We might need to see more each day if we’re ever going to clear the list,” Legato continued.

“Hm,” Knives made a noise of neither agreement or disagreement. “Say, Legato,” he said instead.

“Yes, your highness?” 

“Would you be able to have the kitchens make me a picnic basket for tomorrow?” Knives asked.

“A picnic basket?” Legato asked, obviously thrown by the question.

“Yes. I have found that lunching in the garden to be quite relaxing.”

Ever the professional, Legato quickly regained his footing in the conversation.

“Of course, your highness.”

“Make sure there’s more than enough for two,” Knives told him, not bothering to explain any further.

Legato obviously wanted to ask who this other person was, but the valet knew his place.

“I will see to it.”

***

The pair didn’t meet everyday, Knives was far too busy for that, but they did meet often. Any time Knives was free in the middle of the day though he would have the kitchen pack him lunch and went down to the gardens where he would find Eriks waiting, often reading some book or other. It was strangely domestic, as if he were bringing dinner home to a spouse.

“Interesting?” Knives asked one day, leaning over to try to take a look at the cover. It was worn though and slightly scorched and he wasn’t quite able to make out the title. 

“Somewhat,” Eriks said, closing the book and setting it aside. “Just reviewing some history.”

“And do you like history?” 

“Enough, I suppose.” Eriks shrugged. “I admit I am studying more than reading for pleasure.”

“Have I been distracting you, then?” Knives teased, leaning in just a little closer than what might be considered polite. It was pushing the boundaries of acceptable, though the more they spent time together, the more Knives found himself wanting to push those boundaries. 

“A bit,” Eriks said with a blush. Instead of pulling away though, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Knives’ ear. “Though I don’t mind a bit of distraction.”

Eriks touch lingered slightly, fingers combing through Knives’ hair. For his part, Knives let him, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling far more than he ever would have thought he might from someone who was, in truth, little more than a stranger. He felt himself instinctively leaning into the touch as Eriks finally pulled away, reluctant to have those fingers leave him. 

It wasn’t until Eriks cleared his throat that Knives opened his eyes and saw just how close he had gotten to the other man, their lips mere inches apart. 

“Apologies,” Knives murmured, lingering for just a moment longer before finally pulling away. Unusually, he could feel his cheeks heating. He usually never lost control like this, even if it was for just a moment. Around Eriks though, it seemed to be happening more and more.

“I don’t mind,” Eriks replied, also going a bit pink. “I probably shouldn’t have been so forward. My apologies.”

“Not at all,” Knives shook his head, the piece of hair Eriks had tucked behind his ear coming loose once again. 

“That piece seems determined to fall out, doesn't it?” Eriks said with a light laugh. 

“It’s usually gelled into place,” Knives admitted.

“Hm.” Eriks looked at him consideringly, as if he were imagining what Knives might look like with his hair slicked back. “I think I like you like this. It’s more relaxed.”

“Well, so long as it meets your approval, then what else matters?”

“Hello?” Wolfwood said later that night in a tone of voice that indicated that it was likely not the first time he had tried to get Eriks’ attention. “Eriks, are you listening to me?”

“Sorry!” Eriks said, shaking his head and picking back up his fork. They were at a restaurant and while not nearly as nice as the lunch he had shared with Nai that day, the food was still tasty and would be even more so if consumed while hot. “I was just a little distracted, is all.”

“Thinking about your pianist again?”

“No!” Eriks said in reflex before ducking his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Wolfwood said, though he didn’t seem upset. Rather, he looked highly amused. “What is it about him that makes you so lovesick?”

“I’m not lovesick!” Eriks insisted. “We’re just friends.”

“Of course you are,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I forgot, we all like to sit around daydreaming about our friends. I don’t care if you’re going off to play footsie with some man you just met, just remember that you have to study as well.”

“I have been!” Eriks reassured him. “Don’t worry, I’ve only ever run into him a few times. I still spend most of my time studying.”

“Good. Now, check to see if anyone’s looking. It looks like the people next to left an entire bread basket uneaten and I am not going to let it go to waste.”

As Eriks acted as look out, he couldn’t help but wonder just how much this man could actually teach him as far as manners went. Though he supposed that it didn’t matter too much, not when free bread was involved.

“Do you have much family?” Eriks asked one day. By then, they had met up several times and Eriks was finally starting to feel more comfortable in the other man’s presence. Currently, they were back at the piano bench, sitting side by side. Nai had offered to play a little for Eriks after they ate and while that was still the plan, the pair had gotten a little lost in conversion. 

“I did,” Nai replied. “I lost most of them a long time ago though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eriks instantly apologized, feeling guilty for even bringing it up. “You must miss them terribly.”

“Can you miss someone you don’t remember?” He asked, eyes downcast, gaze on his hands on the piano. 

“You don’t remember them?” Eriks asked. Is he like me?

“Not really. Not as much as I’d like.” Nai took a deep breath, as if steeling himself before continuing. “I had a brother. I actually had quite a few siblings, but my brother was someone special. I’ve been told so much about him at this point, I feel that my memory is not my own. The exact color of his eyes, the way his smile curved, the precise temper of his voice, all of it has faded and been replaced with someone else’s memory. Even the feelings that linger… can you love someone you don’t remember?”

Eriks considered the question for a moment before deciding on his answer. 

“I think so,” he said after a moment. “I barely remember anyone from my past, but I know I loved them. I still do.”

“He played too,” Nai stroked one key, but did not press down. “He used to sneak into my room at night and wake me up so we could play together. We were almost always found out of course — it is not something that can be done quietly after all. We’d always get in so much trouble for being up late and not taking care of our health, but it didn’t matter. He always did it again.”

“Do you miss playing together?”

“Every time I sit at a bench.” Nai tapped out a quite arpeggio. “To be honest, he was better than me.”

“Really?” Eriks asked. It seemed unreal that Nai could have been the worse player of anyone.

“Yes. His constitution meant he was often confined inside, giving him far more of an opportunity to practice than I had.”

Eriks thought about talking about his own experiences, about the family he didn’t couldn’t remember but desperately wanted to. He considered telling Nai about the reason he was here in July — to find out if his family really was here, but just then, listening to Nai’s sorrow over losing his brother, he couldn’t bring himself to. Compared to such real grief, it felt silly to announce that he was here in July on the off chance that he might be a prince. Still though, Nai’s vulnerability made him want to share.

“I can’t remember my family at all,” Eriks admitted. “The very first thing I can remember is waking up in the hospital, right after I lost my arm. The doctors said the amnesia should go away, but it’s been ten years and it still hasn’t.”

“Your family never came to get you from the hospital?”

“After I recovered enough to leave, I went to the orphanage. If there was anyone to get me, I don’t think they even knew where I was.”

“I’m sure they looked for you,” Nai said. “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to find you.”

The pair were quiet for a while, both reminiscing on lost family and the sorrow that came from not being able to remember them. 

After a moment, Eriks cleared his throat. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Will you still play for me?”

“Of course,” Nai said. Before he began though, he reached over and gave Eriks a light squeeze around the waist — as much of a hug as was achievable with both of them sitting on the bench. It was more than they’d ever touched each other before.

***

Later that night, Eriks sat on his bed, staring down at his book, though not reading a page in it. Instead, all he could think about was how nice talking to Nai had been recently. Though their conversations had always been pleasant, there was something special about that day, as if he was finally seeing behind some wall the pianist had erected around himself. 

Beneath his breath, he hummed slightly, that same song that he had heard in his mind as he wandered about the castle, that piano piece that had felt so utterly familiar. For some reason it had stuck with him, though he still couldn’t quite figure out the ending. Maybe he should try to sing the melody for Nai the next time they see each other. If anyone might know it, Nai would. 

“What was that?” Wolfwood asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Nothing!” Eriks said, closing the book. “Just humming.”

“You’re always humming that same song. You must really like it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Eriks admitted. “I can only remember a little bit of it. It came to me while I was at the palace; I’ve been trying to remember the rest of it since then.”

“At the palace?” Wolfwood asked.

“Yes. When I was looking at the piano, I had the sudden urge to play.” A thought occurred to him then. “Say, did Vash play the piano?” 

“All the royal children did,” Wolfwood said. “Just like most of the other nobel children.”

“I see.” Perhaps he did play then. He’d have to see if perhaps Nai could teach him something he could do with only one hand.

“How’s spending time in the garden?” Wolfwood asked. “You said you’ve been occasionally eating in here with the musician you befriended, right?”

“Yes, it’s been quite nice.” Eriks laughed. “He’s not there every day though. Actually, there have been a few times when the flowers there have started to look tasty. It makes me wonder if anyone would notice if I took a bite or two. They make me so happy to look at, surely they would make my stomach happy to eat, don’t you think?”

Instead of laughing, or returning with a quip of his own, Wolfwood just turned and stared at him, unblinking.

“Is there something on my face?” Eriks asked.

“No, I just… say that again.”

“I won’t actually eat the flowers,” Eriks said slowly. “It was a joke.”

“Of course,” Wolfwood said, though the serious expression remained on his face. “A joke.”

Wolfwood didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, just looked lost in thought. It was almost enough to make Eriks want to ask about it, but decided against it. After all, if it had to do with him, he was sure Wolfwood would tell him.

Long after Eriks fell asleep that night, Wolfwood lay awake thinking.

It couldn’t possibly be him, could it?  

Wolfwood would be the first to admit (to himself at least — he wasn’t stupid enough to tell the whole world about his con) that what he was doing was more than a little selfish. He was under no illusion that taking this boy who had no memories of his own and convincing him that he was the lost prince so that Wolfwood himself could get the reward for finding him, was anything other than underhanded at best. Wolfwood had long ago settled his conscience on that, reasoning that really, what he was doing could be much worse — after all, his original plan had been far more scummy. At least this way, the family got a child back and the orphan got a family to dote on him — a royal one even! 

In the past few weeks though, as Wolfwood spent more time with the boy, the more he was genuinely reminded of that little prince who used to sneak into the kitchens and steal food. It hadn’t been a lie that he knew the prince, even if it wasn’t particularly well. It wasn’t just the looks, but other things as well. Eriks’ ability to eat endless amounts of sweets, his interest in the piano, his general attitude, were all reminiscent of Vash. Then, that stupid joke…

Have I accidentally done a very good thing while trying to do a scummy one? Wolfwood wondered. If so, it did make this whole thing much easier. While getting past Knives would still be annoying, if Eriks really was Vash, then surely all he needed was to get the boy in a room with Rem and she would be convinced. Now, he just needed to figure out how the hell to do that. 

Since arriving in July, he’d spoken to Livio several times and his suspicion that his brother was no longer interested in being part of the con was confirmed. As much as Livio trusted in Wolfwood’s words, he was pretty sure that even Livio wouldn’t believe him if he suddenly claimed to have actually found the lost prince. Though, perhaps Livio could still be of some help.

“How do they look?” Rem asked, her voice quiet and tinny over the hotel phone. “Do any of them look hopeful?”

“Not so far,” Knives said, his voice gentle. Rem didn’t often call the hotel to check on him — she claimed she could never quite get a handle on how to use the rotary dial and always got one of her staff to help her. Then again, Knives usually came back to the house more often than he had recently.

“Are you sure? There’s no one that feels… familiar?”

“I’m afraid not,” Knives said, before his mind snagged on a name. Eriks. The boy felt so familiar, as if they had been friends all their lives, but that wasn’t what Rem was talking about. 

“All right.” Rem couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. 

“I haven’t talked to them all,” Knives said, the sadness in his aunt’s voice making him feel a little guilty at his curt replies. “There’s still time.”

There was a pause on the other end that, were it not for the crackle of the phone speaker, Knives would have thought meant that the call had been dropped. 

“Hello?” Knives called. “Are you still there?”

“Has something happened, Nai?” Rem asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“You just sound… different. Lighter. Usually you’re so quick to try to temper my expectations and protect me from disappointment. I don’t think you’ve ever expressed any hope that one of these boys might be the real thing.”

“Don’t be silly,” Knives told her. “Nothing has happened.”

“Of course,” Rem said, though she didn’t sound like she believed him even one bit. Still, she let it go, for which Knives was grateful. He was still trying to figure out his own feelings, he didn’t need to try to explain them to his aunt as well. That relief was short-lived though as soon as Rem voiced her next question. “Now, tell me, are you ready for the ball?”

Knives sighed. The Winter Solstice Ball — a party thrown at the Hopeland Hotel every year that Knives tried and failed to get out of going. 

“You know I hate these things.”

“Yes,” Rem dismissed easily, “but if you just loosened up and tried to talk to people, then perhaps you would have more fun! Besides, would you let your poor aunt go to such an event alone? ”

“Of course not.” 

In an extremely generous move, Knives decided not to point out that for the last five years, Rem had gotten a headache within the first hour of being there and had to leave early. It was always a whole lot of fanfare that ended in Knives having to mingle in her place. 

“Wonderful,” Rem said. “I will have your valet come pick up your clothes for the ball. You’ll look simply dashing, I’m sure of it.”

“All right,” Wolfwood announced on their way out of the Hopeland Hotel a few nights later, “I have a new plan.”

“A new plan?” 

“Yes. Apparently there is going to be a masquerade ball at the hotel in three night’s time and I have been reliably informed that not only will the prince be there, but the grand duchess as well.”

“The grand duchess?” Eriks asked in surprise. “I thought she rarely left her estate.”

“Indeed, which is what makes this the perfect opportunity. Instead of waiting for God knows how much longer, we’re going to go to the ball and find the grand duchess and convince her that you are Vash.”

While Eriks could understand Wolfwood’s concerns — not only had they still not met with the prince, but from some of Wolfwood’s recent sleep talking, it seemed that they were also running low on money — that didn’t mean that the new plan was foolproof.

“If this is one of her only social events of the year, wouldn’t it be hard to talk to her?” Eriks reasoned. “I’m sure other attendees will want to as well.”

“If she’s unavailable, then that still leaves us with a better chance to talk to the prince than we’ve had in weeks. We’ll know what room he’s in at the very least.”

“That feels dishonest,” Eriks replied. “Wasn’t the point of having an official meeting in order for the prince to be more likely to believe me? I thought we didn’t want to ambush him.”

“Yes well,” Wolfwood waved aside his concerns, “that was before we spent several weeks waiting to get an audience, still with no confirmation that it even will happen. Besides, I’m confident that you’ll pass.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Wolfwood said. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“I just… I don’t know. It sounds fancy and I probably wouldn’t fit in.”

“You know,” Wolfwood said in that casual tone of his that Eriks was learning was anything but, “it is at the hotel. Your pianist might be performing.”

“He’s not my pianist!” Eriks insisted, even as his heartbeat quickened at the thought of getting to see the man actually perform for a room full of people. It was tempting, the idea of getting to see Nai in front of an adoring audience.

“Whatever you say Blondie. Now come on, we need to see about finding you something presentable to wear.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” Eriks asked, looking down at his suit. It was far nicer than anything he’d owned before.

“I’m not letting you go to a party like that . You’re a prince, remember? It’s about time you looked like one too.”

With that, Wolfwood grabbed Eriks by the elbow and pulled him down the street. Oh well, at least Eriks still had quite a bit of the money he had saved up — he could afford to get himself some proper clothes. 

Not because I want to impress Nai, he told himself. It has absolutely nothing to do with that.

So far, the ball had been just as boring as Knives had assumed it would be. Not only had Rem bowed out half an hour into the party, but she had insisted that Knives stay and enjoy the party in her place. At this point, it wasn’t even a surprise anymore. 

Though it was technically a masquerade, it wasn’t long before everyone there seemed to have figured out what mask he was wearing and a parade of eligible young nobles had continually accosted him throughout the night. Sure, they pretended not to know who he was, to only be making pleasant small talk, but Knives was no fool. He’d had enough people, eligible or not, vying for his attention throughout the years to be able to recognize it for what it was. 

After over an hour of enduring the ceaseless babble of people pretending that they didn’t know who he was and then falling all over themselves to impress him, Knives was just about to leave the party. He was just about to turn to his valet and tell him to bring the car around when he noticed a familiar shape by a banquet table — a young blond man in a simple, yet handsome red velvet jacket. Unlike many of the others there who had immediately discarded their masks to show off what they likely believed to be their beauty, the man’s shiny black domino mask was still tightly secured to his face. Perhaps Knives didn’t need to sneak away quite yet, or at least not alone.

“Legato,” Knives said, not bothering to raise his voice. “Give me your mask.”

“Sir?” Legato asked from his side, looking uncertain. 

“Do it. Also, I’m done with the party. If anyone asks, tell them that I went home.”

“Of course,” Legato replied, slipping off his own plain white mask and handing it over. Knives replaced his more ornate mask with Legato’s, handing his own to his valet. He considered for a moment taking off his jacket as well, before deciding against it. In a new mask, he would be less immediately recognizable to anyone who had seen him earlier in the party, which was really all he needed. After all, he wouldn’t be here too much longer.

“Don’t wait for me,” Knives said, running a hand through his hair to break apart the gelled back locks before leaving his valet’s side. “I’ll find my way to my rooms on my own tonight.”

Eriks, for his part, hadn’t noticed Knives approaching, obviously intent on his mission to seek out the best of the spread and pile it high on his plate.

“Oh dear,” Knives whispered, leaning in close to Eriks’s ear. “Are you stealing food?”

“Sorry!” Eriks said, turning around and immediately dropping the bread roll he had been holding, which promptly rolled under the table and out of sight. “They were just so tasty, but I shouldn’t have taken more than my share! Sorry!”

Eriks took a step back, not meeting Knives’s eyes, obviously utterly embarrassed. It was only then that Knives realized that Eriks hadn’t actually looked up once since Knives had approached.

“Don’t worry, I could never turn in a friend,” Knives said, stepping close and backing Eriks up against the table, the backs of his thighs pressing into it. He put either hand on the wood, effectively trapping Eriks. “Even one that can’t recognize me behind a mask.”

“I…” Eriks finally looked up, blinking in confusion for just a moment. “Nai?”

“The one and only,” Knives put on a fake frown, enjoying the opportunity to tease the other man. “I have to say, I’m a little hurt that it took you so long to recognize me.”

“You surprised me,” Eriks said, the tension immediately draining from his shoulders and hitting Knives lightly in the chest. “I thought I was in trouble.”

“You surprised me,” Knives said in return, finally giving Eriks a little more space. “I wasn’t expecting to run into my new music enthusiast friend tonight.”

“A friend made me come.” Eriks smiled nervously, fingertips playing at the edge of his mask. Knives couldn’t help but be a little charmed by the fact that Eriks was still wearing it despite so many others discarding their own.

“And where is that friend?”

“Looking for someone he wants to introduce me to,” Eriks said, shrugging. “He disappeared a while ago.”

“Well, while we wait, would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“I’m afraid I have one hand and two left feet,” Eriks said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Luckily for you, I’m an excellent lead.”

“Humble too.” Eriks laughed.

“Incredibly.” 

Still, Eriks shook his head.

“Even so, I’m not going to embarrass myself out there in front of everyone.”

“In which case,” Knives said, putting a hand at the small of Eriks’ back. “Why don’t we run away together?”

The pair slipped out onto the balcony, giddy at successfully avoiding anyone who might recognize and try to stop them. The air was crisp and stars bright in the sky. Though not quite as cold as December winters got, Eriks was reminded of his home on the farm where he could go out and fall asleep beneath a blanket of stars. Alone now, the two discarded their masks, leaving them on the stone railing alongside Eriks’ plate of food.

“You know,” Eriks said, leaning back against the railing and looking up at the constellations, “I was really wanting to avoid the party tonight, but I’m now very glad I came.”

“Is that so? And what makes you so happy?” Nai asked.

Eriks knocked his shoulder with Nai.

“Don’t be smart.”

“I shouldn’t be smart? How should I be instead?”

Eriks knocked his shoulder against the other man again, but this time instead of moving away, stayed pressed against him, basking in his warmth. 

“Why do you have to make everything an argument?” Eriks laughed.

“Because I like the way you look when you’re trying to think of a retort.” Nai turned to him, pressing a finger between Eriks’s brows. “You get a little wrinkle, right here.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that you bully me because I’m pretty? Is that it?”

“Yes,” Nai replied simply.

Eriks had meant his question as a joke, a way to tease the other man, but the sincerity with which Nai agreed, Eriks found himself blushing and looking away instead.

“You’re quite the flirt, aren’t you?” Eriks asked.

“Not really,” Nai replied, reaching out and smoothing a strand of Eriks’s hair back into place. “I’m just being honest.”

“And are you usually so honest?”

“I think you bring it out in me.” Suddenly Nai was closer, closer than he had ever been before, even in the garden. “I think I’ve learned more about myself these past few weeks than I have in a while.”

“Well, I like this version of you,” Eriks said, finding himself looking down at pale pink lips. 

“And what is this version of me that you see?” Nai asked, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Honest, of course. Passionate about music. Thoughtful.” Eriks couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nai’s lips. Had they always looked so soft? “A little bit of a bully sometimes, but in a way that means I can tease you back.”

“And here I thought that I had been an utter gentleman.”

“Oh, of course.” Eriks laughed. “A perfect Prince Charming who likes to tease poor helpless boys they meet.”

“So if I was more serious, teased you less, would you be more interested in me? Would you prefer me that way? Perfect?” There was something in Nai’s voice Eriks struggled to place, an intensity that felt wrong coming from the sweet musician he had spent the last few weeks getting to know.

“You mean if you were someone else?” Eriks asked. “I don’t know. We all have sides we don’t show immediately, but I can’t imagine you revealing someone so shocking that it would make me uninterested.”

“Why are you so sure of that?”

“Because even if it’s been a short time, I know you.” A little tentatively, Eriks reached out a hand and placed it on Nai’s chest. “You have a good heart.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you trust too easily?”

“Lots of people.” Eriks shrugged, leaning in close, his eyes on Nai’s lips. “It doesn’t change the fact that I trust you though.”

“You truly are a strange one,” Nai said, pulling away just before Eriks could quite lean in close enough. “Would you like to dance with me?” 

“I don’t know if I want to go back in yet.”

“We can hear the music well enough out here.” Nai stepped back, extending a hand. “Dance with me.”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“And I told you, I’m an excellent lead. Come now, for me?”

Eriks wasn’t entirely in the mood to dance, would rather Nai come back to where he had just been, but he took Nai’s hand just the same, stepping in close once again. If Nai wanted to dance, if he needed a little time, then Eriks could give it to him.

It was a little awkward at first, trying to balance his prosthetic arm on Nai’s shoulder while also keeping in time with the man’s steps. While Eriks had some control over the prosthetic, it wasn’t the best and it kept threatening to slip off. The whole thing added an additional layer of complexity to the task, which Eriks hadn’t been lying when he said he was bad at. Still, Nai didn’t seem to mind. He just readjusted Eriks’ hand when it started to slip or laughed off the way Eriks repeatedly stepped on his toes, utterly scuffing his shoes. 

After a while, Eriks started to get the hang of it. They weren’t doing anything complicated, barely even moving in a way that could be considered a waltz, but still, they were dancing together. 

Eriks was reminded of his fantasy in the palace, of dancing with that mysterious man. Eriks had thought that fantasy was as close to a fairytale prince as he could ever get, but now, in Nai’s arms, that time felt like little more than something dreamt up by a child. That had been a daydream — this was real and so much better.

The two spun in slow circles, planets orbiting a sun between them, pulling each other ever closer together. They were chest to chest now, dancing closer than anyone in polite company ought to. Though, they were alone out on the balcony with only each other for company and neither of them were overly concerned about being polite. 

If someone were to come out and see them though, that might not go too well. After all, they were still technically in public, even if they were alone.

“We’re very close,” Eriks said, unable to help the blush that crept up his cheeks.

“We are.” The hand on Eriks’s lower back wasn’t quite pulling him in, rather felt like a reassuring anchor, keeping him from accidentally drifting away.

“Maybe one of us should move back.”

“You can, if you want,” Nai allowed, squeezing Erik’s hand in his. “I think I’d rather stay here though.”

Almost as soon as Nai finished speaking, Eriks had leaned closer, pressing lips against soft lips. Their gentle swaying ceased, Nai freezing in place. Before Nai could properly react though, Eriks was already drawing back.

“Eriks,” Nai whispered.

“Sorry if that was too forward,” Eriks said, dipping his head, heat creeping up his neck. “I’ve been wanting to do something like that for a while and I just thought —”

Before Eriks could finish his sentence though, Nai was pulling him in, one hand tipping his chin up as he brought their lips together once again — the position reminiscent of that first time they ate together and Eriks had been so jealous of the cream Nai had licked off his finger. 

This time Nai didn’t let him pull away, their lips moving together in the softest slide. Their kiss tasted like a mix of the wine Nai had been drinking and the sweets Eriks had stolen. It tasted like sunshine and happiness and home.

Nothing in Eriks’ life had ever felt quite so right as this kiss did, this moment of intimacy. Eriks had been alone for so long, as long as he could remember, but right then, that life felt so far away. Loneliness felt like a distant concept when surrounded by Nai’s embrace.

“I’ve wanted the same,” Nai said when they broke apart, foreheads resting together, warm breath ghosting Eriks’ lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to beat me there though.”

“What can I say?” Eriks gave a soft, slightly out of breath laugh. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

“You have a delightful way of going about it.” Nai pressed another gentle kiss to Eriks’ lips. “Though I hope I am receiving special treatment in that regard.”

“I don’t exactly go around sneaking out of balls with just anyone.”

“Good,” Nai said. “We best keep it that way.”

Eriks just laughed, then blinked as something cold hit his forehead. He looked up, curious what it was. 

“It’s snowing,” he said in wonder. “When did it start snowing?” 

“I didn’t notice,” Nai said, looking around as well. “I was too distracted.”

As someone who grew up in December, snow wasn’t particularly enchanting to Eriks, and yet the timing of it felt too serendipitous to be anything other than the world celebrating their joy with them.

When was the last time he felt this light, this giddy? Sure, the wine they had earlier might have been helping some, but that wasn’t all it was — It was Nai and this time that they spent together. Eriks had never been one to believe in fairy tales but just then, he thought that he very well might be standing in one. Maybe a little bit of magic really did exist after all.

“It’s getting late,” Nai said after a while. They weren’t dancing so much as holding each other and swaying, using the music as an excuse to stand so close.

“It is,” Eriks agreed, trying not to let the disappointment at the night being over show on his face. “We can go back in if you want.”

“No.” Nai tightened his hold on Eriks’s waist, pulling the other man to him, their chests pressed together. “I don’t want to stop dancing with you.”

“Good.” Eriks’s smile was small and perhaps a little shy, with cheeks just slightly redder than before. “I don’t want to stop dancing with you either.”

“If you wanted, we could also continue this dance somewhere a little more private.” 

“And here I thought you were a gentleman,” Eriks teased.

“A gentleman thief,” Nai replied. “Here to steal away the most valuable prize of the night.”

“Oh, well I would never want to get in the way of a man and his work.”

“Then, my dear,” Nai said, grabbing Eriks by the waist with both arms and picking him up just enough to twirl him around, Eriks’ toes lifting off from the ground, “let us away into the night.”

Later that night, in the still of Knives’ room, Knives watched in admiration as Eriks slowly stripped off the layers between them. Knives didn’t notice he had stopped smiling until Eriks’s soft cough. 

“I know it’s not exactly nice to look at, but I hope it isn’t too —”

“No,” Knives cut off before Eriks could say anything to degrade himself. “You’re beautiful.”

“Well, you don’t need to lie to me,” Eriks gave a small, self deprecating laugh. “You already got me to your room, didn’t you?”

“I’m not lying,” Knives insisted, taking Vash’s hand and pulling him a little closer. “I wish you hadn’t suffered these pains, but having done so makes you no less beautiful.”

“Come on,” Eriks said, ducking his head. “I know what I look like. It’s not as bad anymore, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I too know what you look like,” Knives said, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Eriks’ throat. “Let me help you see your body through my eyes.”

“All right,” Eriks breathed, leaning into the touch.

“Can I touch you?” Knives asked.

“Please.”

“I really should be going,” Eriks said later that night, still wrapped in Nai’s arms with his head resting on Nai’s bare chest. “My friend will worry if I stay out all night.”

“Always running off to meet this friend of yours,” Nai observed. “Should I be jealous?”

“Not at all,” Eriks said with a laugh, leaning up on his elbow to look Knives in the eye. “Like I said, he’s just a friend.”

“And are we not friends?” 

“I would hope we were something more,” Eriks admitted, a light blush on his cheeks. Nai leaned in then, pressing a kiss to the side of Eriks’ neck as he held the other man tighter to his chest.

“I can certainly think of something I’d like more of.”

For his part, Eriks just let out a breathy laugh, pressing against the warm body beside him. They were still undressed and well… staying a little longer couldn’t hurt, could it?

***

Eriks ended up not getting back to the room until just before the morning rays lit up the sky. It was far too long after the party that any of the wine could possibly be affecting him, but he still felt a little lightheaded just the same. He hadn’t planned on going that far, hadn’t planned on any of this, and yet he couldn’t regret the pleasant ach between his legs.

“Sneaking in at this hour?” A voice from the darkness asked, causing Eriks to jump and drop his coat. A light flicked on to reveal Wolfwood sitting on his bed, arms crossed.

“Sorry!” Eriks immediately apologized. “The time got away from me!”

“I can’t imagine what you could have possibly been doing that was so distracting from the time,” Wolfwood dead panned. “Up all night playing piano?”

“Sorry,” Eriks repeated.

Wolfwood just sighed, rubbing his face. 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. Of course I am annoyed that you completely disappeared from the party. I thought we had a plan.”

“I know we did, I just…” Eriks really didn’t have an excuse. He doubted ‘ I just met someone that I think I might be falling in love with and got swept up into the moment,’ would buy him any sympathy.

“Lucky for you, the night isn’t a complete wash,” Wolfwood announced, grinning for the first time since Eriks entered the room. “Guess who has a meeting with the prince tomorrow.”

“Wait, really?” Eriks asked, stunned. “How?”

“I told you, I have connections within the grand duchess’ household. While you were missing the whole time, I managed to get that weasel of an assistant to the prince alone in a room with me and my brother and convince him to move us up on the list. Legato might be a high and mighty dick, but he also knows enough to be intimidated by Livio.”

“Is your brother really so dangerous?” Eriks asked.

“Absolutely not,” Wolfwood waved away. “But he looks like he could be, which is all that matters.”

“We have an audience then,” Eriks said, sitting down as he processed the news. “I’m going to meet the prince tomorrow.”

“You’re going to meet your brother ,” Wolfwood corrected.

Perhaps Eriks would be ending this week with not only with the ‘something more’ that he had in Nai, but a family as well.

Chapter Text

“Again,” Wolfwood said, nervously flipping the lid of his lighter open and closed as they rode in the taxi. Usually they never bothered with a taxi, but with an official meeting scheduled, it seemed Wolfwood wasn’t going to take any chances that Eriks’ periodic clumsiness might result in him messing up his appearance. 

“I really don’t mind if you smoke,” Eriks said, eyeing the lighter. 

“We can’t have you going in there smelling like an ashtray,” Wolfwood replied. “Now, again .”

Eriks rolled his eyes, but dutifully rattled off, “Tesla, Knives, Vash—”

“You shouldn’t talk about Vash in third person,” Wolfwood interrupted. 

“Fine,” Eriks said, starting over. “There’s Tesla, Knives, me , Chronica, Domina. Tesla was three years older than us, then Crown Prince Knives was about eight minutes older than me, Chronica two years younger, then Domina five years younger.”

“Good. All right, so—“

“Wolfwood,” Eriks interrupted before the man could get him to rattle off any more of the details he had spent the last several weeks memorizing, “it will be fine. You should relax; you look like you didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Because I was up waiting for you to get back,” Wolfwood pointed out. “You should really be glad that the grand duchess left almost as soon as we got there yesterday or else you would be in way worse trouble.”

“I already apologized!” Eriks insisted. “I just… you’d understand if you met him, I swear.”

“Sure,” Wolfwood waved off, obviously not particularly interested in hearing about Eriks’ new friend. “I hope spending last night with your pianist was worth forcing me to make all this extra effort.”

“It was,” Eriks said, cheeks flushing a light pink at the memory of the night before, bringing a hand up to brush against his chest where his shirt hid a kiss mark Eriks had only noticed that morning when getting dressed. One of them was high enough that Eriks had to make sure to keep his tie fully tightened, lest it be visible.

I’ll have to remind him to be careful next time, Eriks thought, the very idea of ‘next time’ making his stomach flip in anticipation.

“Good. I expect an invitation to the royal wedding. Now, let’s go over the extended family once more, Vash.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Eriks said, shifting uneasily. “It’s just us in here.”

“Well, you better get used to it because after today, that's all anyone is going to call you,” Wolfwood said. “List your extended family, Vash. ”

Eriks sighed. He wouldn’t be getting out of this so easily, it seemed. 

Strangely, he wasn’t nearly as scared of the idea of this meeting as he expected to be, as he once would have been. That didn’t mean he wasn’t excited at the idea of finding his family — he still desperately wanted to find them, but he also felt like even if this turned out to be wrong, he'd be all right. Now, he had Nai.

It was probably ridiculous to put so much hope on a relationship that was still so new, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about Nai, something that made Eriks feel at home in a way he’d never experienced before.

I’ll tell Nai everything when I see him today, Eriks thought. Either way it turns out. 

If Eriks really did turn out to be the prince, then they could celebrate together. Maybe he could even bring Nai to meet his family.

If it turned out that Wolfwood was wrong though, he’d still tell Nai. It would hurt of course, the let down after getting his hopes up for weeks, but Nai would be there for him. They could laugh about it, at the childish fantasy of being long lost royalty, rather than dwell on disappointment.

Even if he wasn’t Vash, Eriks found that he couldn’t regret coming here; not when it meant meeting Nai. Traveling all the way from July was worth it just to meet him.

Eriks reached up, playing with his earring as he imagined what lunch that day might be like. 

__________

“Your mood seems much improved this morning,” Legato commented as he cleared away Knives’ breakfast dishes. 

“It was a surprisingly enjoyable night,” Knives agreed, handing over an empty tea cup. Usually, Knives dined alone in his own rooms, but he had allowed himself to sleep in that morning and so had Legato bring his food to the hotel room in which they conducted the interviews. They’d be starting soon, and though Knives wasn’t looking forward to it, he was also determined not to let the work spoil his good mood.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Legato replied. While the statement itself wasn’t anything to read into, Knives had known his valet for too long not to recognize his tone of voice. Legato was obviously preparing to deliver news Knives would not enjoy hearing.

“Out with it,” Knives said.

Pausing first for a moment to set the breakfast dishes aside on the cart they had been brought in on, Legato eventually turned around with a sigh.

“Only that today might be a touch more frustrating than usual. You recall that oaf of a man that your aunt insists on keeping employed, Livio, right?”

“I do.” He didn’t really mind Livio nearly as much as Legato did, though he rarely interacted with him. Livio was one of the kitchen boys back in the palace in December who found his way back to his aunt’s employment just last year. Though Knives didn’t remember him, Rem did and had offered him a job as a guard. He was quiet and didn’t bother Knives, which was a lot better than most of the people who attempted to gain employment with his aunt.

“Well, his brother has an appointment today.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“ Wolfwood, ” Legato said the man’s name as if it tasted sour on his tongue, “is a known charlatan. There were rumors that he was even holding auditions back in December to find someone to pretend to be the missing prince. He’s been hanging around here for the past several weeks and I’ve managed to fend him off the whole time, but it seems that we must finally deal with him.”

“Let him be the first,” Knives suggested. “I’ll dismiss him quickly and get him out of the way.”

“Are you sure, your grace? I could try to send him away again.” Even as Legato proposed the idea, it was obvious that he doubted his ability to do so.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have agreed for him to have an audience if you could help it,” Knives said. “I don’t mind dealing with him myself. Send him in as soon as he arrives.”

There was a faint look of surprise that crossed Legato’s face, but the valet managed to mask it quickly enough.

“If you are alright with starting half an hour early, I will fetch him then,” Legato said with a bow. “I have no doubt he is already in the hall outside as we speak, just as he has been everyday for weeks .”

Legato disappeared, leaving Knives alone in the receiving room. Despite his valet’s poor mood, his own remained perfectly fine. Just then, Knives didn’t even mind having to deal with all of these frauds; it wouldn’t take all day after all. 

He stood from his seat and walked to the window, admiring the lovely day outside. Bright morning light shown in the sky, not a cloud in sight. It was still cold of course, but in the green house, the effect should be just perfect to imitate a perfectly sunny spring day.

I should call down to the kitchen to prepare us a particularly elaborate spread, Knives thought as he heard the door open behind him. Some cake, to feed that boy’s sweet tooth, I think.

Knives took a deep breath, preparing himself for the first meeting. He needed only to get through the morning before he would be free to seek out the only person he truly wished to spend the day with. 

“Your Highness,” Legato called from behind him, “the first ‘Vash’ has arrived.”

_________

Eriks avoided the gaze of the judgemental valet — a man with hair so dark black that it seemed to shine blue — who led him and Wolfwood into the receiving room. No doubt this was Legato; the one that had been so adamant about keeping Wolfwood from making an appointment. Instead of meeting the man’s glare, Eriks’ eyes were fixed on the sole occupant of the room, a man by the window. He had a straight, regal posture and hair so light that it seemed to glow in a white halo around him in the morning rays. 

Even from behind, Eriks had no doubt that this was the prince. Even if Eriks had no experience with interacting with royalty, everything about the way the man held himself screamed superiority. 

Still though, there was something eerily familiar in those shoulders, the curve of his back, the fineness of his hair. Not the sort of familiar of a long forgotten memory though — not the sort of familiar Eriks had longed to feel for years — but the kind of familiar of someone who he had recently become very closely acquainted with.

In the end, it was his hands that confirmed it, even before the man turned around. Eriks had spent weeks watching those hands coax such beauty from the piano — he’d know them anywhere.

Dread filled Eriks’ gut as the man slowly turned away from the window.

It’s a mistake, it must be! We have the wrong room or something. This can’t be who we’re here to meet.

There was a moment of stunned silence when Eriks met the man’s gaze. Shock spread across his face for a moment, then confusion, then nothing but complete coldness. The man’s expression might be utterly unfamiliar as was his perfectly slicked back hair, but Eriks had no doubt who the man was. Eriks knew those eyes, that strong jaw, that pale complexion. 

“Nai?” Eriks breathed. It came out more of a question than anything else. The name that last night held nothing but fondness, now felt wrong in his mouth. Before him was the man who had laid with Eriks only a few hours ago and yet, looking in that cool gaze, Eriks felt as if they were utter strangers. 

“You will address His Highness by his title,” commanded the valet. “If you must insist on using his name, you will address him as Prince Knives.”

“Knives?” Eriks asked, eyes not leaving the icy gaze of the man who was at once so familiar and also an utter stranger.

“I said—”

“Legato,” Nai — no, Knives — interrupted. The valet immediately went silent. “Leave us.”

“You heard His Highness,” Legato said, turning to Eriks and Wolfwood. “You have been dismissed. Now—”

“No,” Knives’s voice was cool and quiet. It reminded Eriks of that first day, of when the man at the piano had called out to him before he turned. The softness that had grown between them had felt so natural that hearing Knives’ voice stripped of it left Eriks stomach twisting with unease. “Legato, you are dismissed. Leave us.”

“Your Highness?” Legato asked, looking confused.

“Everyone,” Knives repeated, eyes not leaving Eriks’, “except you, are dismissed. You and I have much to discuss.”

“I—” Eriks began before getting cut off.

“We have much to discuss alone. ” For the first time since Eriks entered the room, Knives’ gaze left him, flitting between Legato and Wolfwood. “As I said, the two of you are dismissed .”

For a moment, Legato looked conflicted, as if he wanted nothing more than to go against the prince’s wishes and argue that he should be allowed to stay. Then, he bowed before ushering Wolfwood toward the door.

“Eriks, is everything all right?” Wolfwood asked, pulling away from Legato’s grip. “What’s going on?”

“I… I don’t know,” Eriks said, unable to take his eyes from Knives. 

“I can stay if you want.”

“No you can’t,” Legato interrupted. “We were asked to leave and so we will leave.”

“It will be fine,” Eriks said, even as his heart sank beneath the weight of Knives’ glower. Amongst the confusion, Eriks was certain of one thing — whatever was happening was not fine.

“That’s right,” Knives agreed. “We’re just going to have a little conversation.”

“Scream if you need me,” Wolfwood told him as Legato pulled him from the room. “I’m very good at breaking down doors!”

The two men filed out reluctantly, both looking utterly confused, but following orders just the same. Soon, it was just Eriks and Knives surrounded by a horribly different atmosphere than the last time they had been alone in a room together.

“So,” Knives said, “this is a rather curious turn of events, is it not?”

“I don’t understand what’s going on, surely there must be some mistake,” Eriks said with a shake of his head. “A misunderstanding or accidental mix up of something of the sort.”

“Oh, I believe one of us has severely misunderstood the other’s intentions,” Knives said. “Though from my experience, I highly doubt any of it was by accident.”

“Look, I told you I can’t remember my past and I lost my family right? I came to July to look for them, I just never expected you to —” Eriks said before Knives cut him off, voice sharp as his namesake.

“What, Eriks?” Knives snapped. “And skip your lies this time. I have no patience today for make believe. Tell me, did you know who I was from that first day or did you simply figure it out somewhere along the way?”

“I had no idea who you were until I came in here just now, I—” Eriks started before he was interrupted anyway. 

“I suppose it doesn’t matter when the lies began,” Knives mused. “It only affects my own pride after all, knowing if it was all a ploy from the start or if I simply fell prey to an opportunist.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening, but I swear, nothing was planned!” Eriks insisted. “I really am here trying to find my family; trying to figure out who I am!”

“Pretend I believe you in your insistence of your innocent intentions, am I to believe you that you are my brother as well? Is that not what you supposedly came here today to claim?”

“No!” Eriks said on instinct. “I mean, yes, I’m supposed to be here to meet you I guess, but it wasn’t supposed to be you. It wasn’t supposed to go like this .”

It couldn’t be true, right? Whatever Wolfwood had claimed, he must be wrong because the man before him couldn’t possibly be his brother. That wasn’t how this story was supposed to end, it wasn’t right! None of this was right — this was supposed to be the moment everything finally fell into place and even if it didn’t, Nai was supposed to help him pick up the pieces of his broken heart, not be the one shattering it.

“What? Are you telling me that you really believed that you were a prince?” Knives laughed at that, as if Eriks’ station was so far below him that the idea of them being on the same level was comical. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to go, Eriks thought. He wasn’t supposed to laugh at me.

“Why is that so hard to believe that I could be?” Eriks asked. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“You’re right,” Knives agreed coldly, “I really don’t know anything about you.”

“No, wait, that came out wrong, I—” 

“Tell me,” Knives interrupted, “when did you decide the reward money wasn’t good enough?”

“What reward money?” Eriks asked, trying desperately to understand what was going on. 

“You must have quite the dreams of grandeur if six million double dollars wasn’t enough to satisfy you.”

That took Eriks aback. Six million? Wolfwood had never even mentioned a reward, let alone one that large? 

Does he not know? Or is he simply planning on taking it all?  

“Look, I understand that a reward like that can attract unsavory characters, but I honestly didn’t know!” Eriks insisted. “I wouldn’t do that. Not to anyone, but especially not to you.”

“After meeting me, did you figure that you wouldn’t be able to trick me into believing you were my brother and so you decided to seduce and then blackmail me for your silence so as to protect my reputation?” Knives mused. “While I don’t particularly care what the public has to say about me, I have done my best to protect my dear aunt’s ears so I suppose it’s not such a terrible plan.”

“Like I said, there was no plan!” Eriks defended. 

“I must admit, you played the coy seductress far better than I would have thought.” Knives’s laugh was cruel, filled with so much bitterness it make Eriks’s own stomach twist. “I didn’t suspect your lie even once. The ‘sweet innocent orphan who’s just trying to play nice’ isn’t a mask I’ve seen before. It’s far more effective than I would have thought; I’ll have to be more wary next time.”

“It wasn’t a mask!” The idea that everything Eriks told Knives, the vulnerability he had allowed himself to display, were all being dismissed as nothing but lies, stabbed at his heart. “Nai, just listen—”

“ Don’t call me that.” All of the warmth from the previous night was gone, leaving a frozen prince. There was no trace of the man Eriks had gotten to know over the last several weeks in the stranger that stood in front of him. “Don’t call me what he used to. What my family calls me. Only people who love me, truly care for me, can call me that.”

“I do care!” Eriks insisted. “Don’t tell me what I feel! You don’t get to decide that for me!”

“You’ve lied to me enough; aren’t you tired? Because I’m tired, Eriks.” Knives turned his back to Eriks, not even looking at him anymore; a clear dismissal. “I want no more of your little games.”

“This isn’t fair.” There was a very distinct stinging behind Eriks’s eyes, but damned if he was going to cry now . “You can’t just accuse me of lying and scheming when I’ve given you no reason to believe that I am!”

“Everyone who walks into this room does it with the intention of lying to me. Why would I believe you are anything different?” There was something in Knives’ voice, something that reminded Eriks of sitting at the piano bench when they spoke of their pasts — choked with suppressed emotion. Even now, after enduring insult after insult, it pulled on Eriks, making him want to soothe away that old ache. 

“Because I care about you,” Eriks said, stepping forward and taking Knives’ hand with his own. “I don’t understand what all of this is about, but we can figure it out together and —”

“Don’t touch me,” Knives snapped, yanking his hand from Eriks as if his mere touch caused him pain. “Lie to me, blackmail me, tell me what it will take to keep our… tryst quiet, do whatever you please. Just don’t touch me. I don’t need someone like you close enough to even try.”

It would have hurt less if Knives had simply slapped Eriks across the face. 

Someone like me? Eriks thought. He didn’t care. Not last night, perhaps not ever. He never took any of this seriously; never took me seriously. 

It was obvious now. Someone who cared, someone who last night meant anything to, wouldn’t look at Eriks with such disdain as Knives did now. They would try to understand — they wouldn’t be doing everything in their power to remove Eriks from their sight.

“You’re not listening to me and you’re not being fair,” Eriks said, balling his fists at his sides. “I might not have told you everything, but I also wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.”

“What are you on about?”

“You’re going to act like you don’t know what I mean, Prince Knives?” The nails of Eriks’s hand dug deep grooves into his palm. “Last night, I thought… I thought there was something between us, something special. But you never thought of it that way, did you? ‘Someone like me?’ You’ve looked down on me this whole time, haven't you?”

“Don’t make me the villain in all of this, we both know—” This time, it was Eriks’ turn to interrupt Knives.

“We both know that you were never going to see the poor orphan boy as your equal, were you? You’re a prince after all; why would you?”

“That’s not—“ Knives cut himself off with a sigh, rubbing his temples as if he was the one wronged in this situation. “You don’t understand. I have responsibilities—“

“I think I understand perfectly, Prince Knives .” It was the first time Eriks called him that rather than Nai. Doing so felt like shutting a door, like hammering a wedge into the crack between the islands they stood on, sending their islands drifting in different directions. 

“So, you’re upset that I took you to bed without the intention of immediately marrying you?” Knives asked. “When we never even talked about a relationship? If I had known that you were so naive, I wouldn't have bothered.” 

“Neither would I, had I known how little any of it obviously meant to you.” 

“Well then, we find ourselves in agreement that last night was a mistake. That all of this was.”

“Indeed. I hope I provided a pleasant distraction from your responsibilities, even just for a night.” Every word burned with bitterness in the back of Eriks’s throat. Suddenly, he couldn’t be here, needed to leave right now before he did something he could truly never take back. “If this interview is over, then I believe we have nothing left to say to each other. Have a pleasant day, your Highness.” 

Eriks gave his best formal bow before stalking out of the room.

Wolfwood paced outside, barely able to keep himself from pressing his ear up against it. Again , that was. Legato had hit him the first time he did it.

“What did your boy do?” Legato asked, looking furious. Wolfwood balled his fists, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to punch the man, despite his burning desire to do so. After weeks spent with Legato, spent running his errands and acting as a whipping boy all in the name of getting an interview, he was running out of ways of arguing himself out of just tackling the man.

“Nothing!” Wolfwood insisted, hoping to god it was nothing. The two men had recognized each other, that much was obvious, though it did not seem to be that of long lost brothers who were finally reunited. Something sure as hell happened.

“Well, it must have been something for his highness to react so strongly,” Legato threw out.

“Maybe it was Knives who —”

“Don’t you dare disrespect his highness like —” 

“— is being an unreasonable dick,” Wolfwood finished, ignoring Legato’s interruption. “If he’s anything like those in his employ, then it would make sense.”

“How dare —”

Before Legato could finish, the door to the reception room burst open, Eriks storming out.

“Vash, is everything —” Wolfwood started before he was cut off in the middle by Eriks grabbing his arm.

“We’re leaving.” Eriks tone left no room for argument. 

“Shit,” Wolfwood let out as he allowed himself to be dragged down the hall. Something really had happened and Wolfwood had the distinct impression it would not be something he liked.

“I always knew that man was untrustworthy. You did the right thing by —” Legato huffed, coming back into the room.

“Legato,” Knives interrupted. “Reject the rest of the candidates for today.”

“Excuse me?” As much as Knives hated these meetings, he’d never cleared a whole day like this, nor had he ever outright rejected whole groups of candidates without even meeting with them first. 

“The whole week too,” Knives amended, grabbing his coat from the wrack by the door. “Or just cancel their appointments and tell them not to come back for a long long time. I don’t care; whatever makes them go away. I’m going home. I can’t stand to be in this hotel for another second.”

“I — I’ll ready the car and —”

“Just have it brought to the front,” Knives told him. “I’ll get myself home, alone.”

“But your highness —”

“I know how to drive,” Knives remind him, any patience he might have still held on to, quickly evaporating. “Have them bring the car around. That is an order.”

For the second time that day, Legato looked like he desperately wanted to argue with him, but again, he knew his place. “Of course.”

***

Though the drive back to the estate was quiet, the inside of Knives’ mind was far from it. Inside was a roiling mess of thoughts and emotions.

Why would I think that he would be different? That he wouldn’t be just like the rest? For once, Knives’ caution around letting strangers get too close had slipped and let in someone and of course, they would betray him. He spent hours everyday for years being lied to by people like Eriks and yet it seemed that all it took was a pretty face and a (no doubt faked) bashful and sweet demeanor for Knives to ignore everything he knew and pursue him. 

Like a naive fool, he thought that by not telling Eriks who he was meant that he could keep his identity a secret. Knives truly believed that for once, he was being seen as himself, that someone cared about him for more than his title or what he could do for them. He’d believed that the bond they were forming meant something — that there was something genuine growing between them. Apparently not though; apparently such things were relegated to day dreams. 

Those dreamy days spent in the garden weren’t real — not a single one. This was reality, this life where the first person he let himself feel something for had gotten into his heart with honeyed lies. 

How could I have been so blind? So foolish? He berated himself. Of course someone wouldn’t love me for me.

Just as their own people of December had betrayed the royals and killed Knives’ family, Eriks had done the same. 

No one was to be trusted — it was a lesson Knives thought he learned a long time ago, but it seemed that the world decided he needed a reminder. Well, he certainly wasn’t ever going to make a mistake like this ever again.

Eriks was just like the rest of them in the end — a liar who came to pray on the grief of a broken family. 

***

“Nai, is that you, my dear?” Rem called from the open door to the drawing room nearest the foyer almost as soon as Knives came in. “Welcome home! Come in here!”

Damn. The last thing Knives wanted right now was to talk to his aunt. Still, etiquette had been drilled into him since his birth and he entered the room to greet her. 

“Good morning,” Knives said with a tight smile. He just needed to exchange a few pleasantries and then he could disappear into his own rooms.

“I wasn't expecting you!” she said, looking up from the vase of flowers she was rearranging. “You never come back early. Does this mean you have good news for me?”

“No.” Knives’ smile was so stiff that it felt as if it might break at any moment. Like it might break him. “My apologies, aunt.”

“Really?” Rem’s disappointment was palpable. “Did you need something from home, then?”

“No, I have found spending all day being lied to a bit too much today and just needed a break.” It was far more terse than Knives usually ever was with his aunt, but right now he didn’t have it in himself to play at being the perfect nephew. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard on you,” Rem said, setting down the flowers to give Knives a little more of her attention. “It will be worth it when we find him, though, don’t you think?”

“Trust me, these men aren’t him.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t anyone who might seem just a little special? Maybe at the party last night, there —”

“Stop it! Just stop !” Knives burst out, unable to take it anymore. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Knives regretted them. He’d never spoken back to Rem before, not even a little, let alone almost yelled at her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s all right,” Rem said, looking more stunned than she did upset. “Is everything alright, Nai?”

“It’s…” he was going to say ‘fine’ but right now, he just couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. It wasn’t fine, nothing was fine and right then, he couldn't act like it was anymore. After everything that happened that morning with Eriks the last thing he wanted was to come back and play pretend with Rem. Right now he needed time and space to deal with the betrayal; he simply had no energy to put on the usual farce for his aunt.

Happy endings might have existed for other people, but not for Knives. 

“I’m sorry, Nai,” Rem said, coming over and laying a hand on his forearm. “I’ve put too much on you, haven’t I?”

“It’s not too much,” Knives immediately reassured her with a shake of his head, “I can handle it usually. I want him back too, I just… it’s exhausting sometimes — chasing a ghost.” 

Rem was quiet for a while, studying Knives’ face.

“You really believe he’s gone, don’t you?” She finally asked, voice soft.

Knives wanted to say ‘yes,’ wanted to tell her that Vash was forever lost to them both and she just needed to accept that, that they both needed to accept it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“I don’t know,” he said instead. “I don’t know what I believe anymore. I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I can’t stand these interviews, with all of these people coming to me and pretending to be the person I loved most in the world. I volunteered to do it so that you didn’t have to, but honestly it’s horrible. Truly gone or not, I can’t even mourn the brother I lost.” 

It was more honest than Knives had probably ever been with his aunt about his feelings. At the end of Knives’ speech, Rem came forward, putting her arms around her nephew. It was strange, being hugged by Rem. Even if they were the only family they had left, they were rarely physically affectionate. 

Still though Knives made himself relax into her touch, to derive at least a little bit of the comfort he so desperately craved right now. He hadn’t expected to deal with these feelings as well as the ones surrounding everything to do with Eriks. Now that he had finally given voice to thoughts he had held onto for years, Knives felt drained.

Rem felt so small in his arms — so delicate and fragile and Knives couldn’t help but be reminded of why exactly he had volunteered to do the interviews over her. They had left her looking so drained and miserable that Knives simply couldn’t stand it. He thought he would fare better, that he was stronger than his aunt. It seemed that he had over estimated himself.

“I’m sorry, Nai,” Rem said as she rubbed his back. “I know you miss him too, it’s just that for ten years, Vash was my entire world and after we lost him and I just… I don’t know how to move on. It’s so hard to let go of someone you love so much. ”

“I don’t know,” Knives said. “Sometimes I wish I could rip out the part of me that loves him, that foolishly hopes that he’s still out there, and bury it where no one can unearth it ever again.”

“Oh, Nai,” Rem sighed, squeezing him just a little tighter. “You’ve felt like this for quite a while, haven’t you?”

“I want to find him,” Knives said instead of answering her question, “It’s just that everyday the chance of that happening feels farther and farther away. The interviews attract nothing but charlatans and there’s only so much I can take.”

Despite the difference in their size, Knives felt so young while being comforted like this — like a child running to his mother after scraping a knee. Knives couldn’t remember the last time he felt like a child, nor what his mother’s embrace felt like anymore.

“Has something happened today, my dear?” Rem asked when they finally pulled apart. “You’re usually so reserved.”

“I…” For a moment, Knives considered telling her about Eriks, about the weeks they spent together, about the betrayal he just learned of. He couldn’t though — not now when everything was still so raw and he hadn’t had any time to sort out his feelings. He didn’t know how to explain what happened without ripping that hole in his chest wider. Besides, he had been made a fool of and that too was not something he relished sharing.

“You can tell me anything,” Rem prompted. 

“Is it possible to stop loving someone?” Knives asked. “Or not love, but… something almost like that. Not let them go, but just stop the feelings all together?” The question came out before he could really think about it and was not what he intended to ask, nor what Rem was apparently expecting to hear from her wide eyes. It felt too personal, too revealing and yet, the words were out there and there was no taking them back. 

“I don’t know if it’s ever possible to stop loving someone, not if the feelings were true.”

“I see.” While Eriks’ feelings might not have been true, Knives’ were, even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to name them just yet. 

“This isn’t about Vash, is it?” Rem asked, studying Knives’ expression. 

“It’s not,” Knives agreed. “Or it is but… It’s complicated.”

“It often is, when it comes to matters of the heart,” Rem allowed. 

“Love is a terrible thing.”

Rem reached forward, squeezing Knives’ hand. “It’s not always. Not even usually. It is simply that one needs to allow themself to become vulnerable to do so.”

“A terrible thing,” Knives repeated. Rem just smiled at that, eyes looking terribly sad. She didn’t argue further with him though, nor did she pry into what happened, and for that Knives was grateful.

“Listen,” Rem said. “Why don’t you stay home tonight? We’ll have dinner and spend an entire evening talking about light and silly things and nothing about the past.”

Knives’ instinct was to reject her offer, to lock himself in his room for as long as he could before he absolutely needed to either eat or use the restroom. Still though, Rem so rarely wanted to talk about anything other than Vash, it felt wrong to deny her.

“Of course,” Knives said instead. If that was what Rem wanted, then he could do so.

“Or if you are needing space,” Rem said, “we can do that tomorrow and tonight we can eat on our own.”

“No, it’s fine, I—”

“Nai,” Rem cut him off, “you said you wanted a break and I only want to help you have it.” 

“Tomorrow,” Knives said, easily relenting. “We’ll eat together tomorrow.”

“Shall I let the kitchens know to send dinner up to your room tonight?” Rem asked

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Rem let Knives leave shortly after. In his own rooms of the estate, Knives allowed himself to throw himself onto his bed in a very princely-like manner. He wanted to sleep and not think about anything from that morning or the day before. Perhaps, if he went to bed, he’d wake to realize it was all a dream — that he hadn’t been betrayed by someone he was beginning to feel things for. It was as naive of an idea as a child ripping a hated last chapter out of a book and pretending like an ending never existed at all.

Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be just like the rest?

“Can you believe him?” Eriks asked, utterly disgusted as he burst through the door to their hotel room. “You would think he owns the entire world from the way he acts! I say good riddance; who could possibly want to be with someone like that?”

“Be related to, you mean,” Wolfwood corrected as he shut the door behind him.

“Of course that’s what I mean!” Eriks replied as he began to pace. “He could never be my brother and I’m glad for it. To so immediately accuse me of lying, to not even give me the chance to explain myself, I just —”

“Vash, wait.” Wolfwood moved in front of Erik’s and effectively blocked his path. 

“Stop calling me that,” Eriks said, crossing his arms. 

“No,” Wolfwood said, crossing his own arms in defiance and mirroring Eriks’ pose, “I won’t.”

“Why? I’ve met him and now I know that I could never be related to someone like that, so there’s no use in it. We were wrong; I’m not Vash. Well, I suppose I was wrong,” Eriks said with a small laugh that even to his own ears sounded more sad than bitter. “Did you ever believe it, or was it just the reward you were after? You never even mentioned there was a reward, let alone that it was six million double dollars to the person who could find the lost prince.”

Wolfwood winced, answering Eriks’ question.

“Look, yes. Initially, it was the reward,” Wolfwood agreed. “I thought I could get someone who looked close enough that we could fool them and then split the money.”

“And then you found the perfect puppet.” Eriks took a breath, suddenly feeling horribly close to tears. “I was a fool to believe you, wasn’t I?”

“I’m sorry for taking advantage of you. I guess I thought,” Wolfwood shrugged, “I don’t know, that if you haven't found your family in a decade, that you probably weren’t going to anyway and this way, you at least get a family. Besides, it’s not so bad being mistaken for a prince.”

“I could have spent that time looking for my real family,” Eriks said. “You don’t get to decide that they are forever lost to me!”

“Well, I was wrong in the end because we did find them. Knives is your real family.”

“Stop lying to me!” Eriks nearly yelled. “I’m tired of being played as a fool!”

“I have stopped!” Wolfwood insisted. “And I’m being completely serious when I say that the man we met today is your brother.”

“Why should I believe you now?”

“Look, I’ve known for a while now. Ever since you made that comment about eating the flowers in the garden.”

For a moment, Eriks was too thrown by Wolfwood’s explanation, to do anything but blink at the man, shocking him out of some of his previous frustration. 

“Why would a joke make you so sure I was the prince?”

“Because Vash really did that! You did that!” Wolfwood ran a hand through his hair, as if this whole situation was stressing him out — as if he had any reason to be stressed about this when it was Eriks’ life that was imploding. “When you were young, there was a day when you managed to get yourself locked away in the greenhouse. No one knew where you went and they had the whole palace looking for you. Eventually, you were found sitting in the dirt, surrounded by piles of stems of flowers. When you were asked why you ate them, you gave the same exact response.”

“I’m sure that I just heard this story and forgot,” Eriks dismissed.

“No, that isn’t it,” Wolfwood insisted. “The royal family was worried that if people found out that you ate just about anything put in front of you, that someone might try to poison you so they never told anyone. The only reason I know was that I happened to be the one who found you that day. I worked in the kitchens, but like I said, they had everyone looking.”

“That could still be a coincidence.” Something about the story pulled at the back of Eriks’ mind, the scene playing out in front of his eyes. Him, sitting there in the geraniums, plucking at the red petals, bored out of his mind as he waited for someone to come let him out. 

Just because I can imagine something, doesn’t make it real.  

“Maybe,” Wolfwood shrugged, “but look at the facts. You were a child found in the palace, too young to have really worked there either. You must have been the child of someone who lived there, servant or royal and you look exactly like the missing prince, down to the mole.”

“But that doesn’t mean —”

“I was only more sure once I saw you next to Knives,” Wolfwood continued, “you’re his twin, there’s no doubt in my mind. Honestly, I was already starting to have my suspicions, but since I heard you make the silly joke, I knew it was you. I didn’t say anything because, well, I wasn’t exactly going to come out with ‘oh, I was lying before but actually, now I really do believe it’s you.’”

Wolfwood’s words were spoken with utter conviction, sounding more earnest than Eriks thought the man capable of. He truly believed this. 

Suddenly the frustration and hurt feelings that had been driving Eriks left him, leaving behind only exhaustion.

Eriks sat down hard on his bed, looked down at his hands. “You don’t understand, he can’t be my brother.”

“I don’t know what went on with you two, but —”

“I met him at the hotel when you were trying to get an audience,” Eriks said plainly. 

“Oh god,” Wolfood said, putting it together. “He was the pianist, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he said. “You were with him last night, weren’t you? How far did it get?”

Eriks paused before he answered — before he could answer. When he finally said anything, he didn’t have it in himself to meet Wolfwood’s eyes.

“I went back to his hotel room with him,” Eriks finally said. “What do you think happened?”

“Fuck,” Wolfwood repeated, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay well, I think I’m starting to understand some of what happened today.”

“He thought I was going to try to blackmail him to keep from ruining his reputation that he took ‘someone like me’ to bed,” Eriks said, Knives’ words tasting bitter in his mouth.

“So he thinks the whole thing was a lie?”

“Yes,” Eriks confirmed. 

“This is…” Wolfwood trailed off, for once even he was at a loss for words.

“He can’t be my brother,” Eriks repeated. “I’ll forgive you for tricking me and lying and everything. Just tell me that he isn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Wolfwood said. “For everything, but yes, he really is. I’m sure of it.”

The pair were quiet for a long while after that, the truth weighing them down like a lead blanket thrown across the room. 

I never told Wolfwood his name, Eriks realized. If he had, he was sure Wolfwood would recognize the nickname for the prince. A small oversight that could have prevented so much.

***

Eriks lay awake that night, mind a jumbled mess. Thoughts raced by endlessly; it was a whirlwind of realizations and denial all mixed up. 

Nai is a prince. He’s an actual prince. 

Nai is my brother.

No, he might be my brother. Wolfwood could be wrong. Or lying.

Wolfwood seems sincere though. He really thinks that I’m Vash.

Nai is my brother.

I slept with my brother. 

I might be in love with my brother.

Fuck.

Part of Eriks was tempted to just run — to pack his bags and get on the first train back to December. Luida and Brad would take him in again, he had no doubt. He could just go back to the farm where everything was simple and predictable and pretend all of this never happened. Maybe someday Eriks could tell his grandkids about the time he flirted with a mysterious stranger who turned out to be a prince. They would laugh and call him crazy and not believe a word of it and it would all be a strange memory — safe and far away. 

He could leave this behind and never see Knives ever again.

The idea of that sat poorly with Eriks in a way that he didn’t know what to do with.

I might have finally found my family, that’s why.

Did he even have it in himself to leave? Could he just pack up and go, all the while knowing that there was a chance that the family he longed for was still alive? Could he give up the chance of getting everything he had dreamed of for a decade because he was scared of what it could mean?

Could I ever learn to see Nai as a brother?

Even if Eriks memories returned, he wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure about anything right now, except that he’d never be able to forget the night before. The feeling of Knives’ touch on his skin, the way Knives looked at him with such tender desire, the taste of Knives’ lips — how was Eriks supposed to forget such things? They knew each other intimately now, knew each other’s bodies in a way brothers were never meant to. 

Maybe Wolfwood is wrong and we’re not related. If that is the case though, what does that mean about me and Nai? Could what we had ever be mended? Did we really even have anything at all?

It felt deviant to even think about being with someone who could be his own twin, but Eriks just couldn’t help it. They had fought, yes, but fights could be resolved and… well Eriks wasn’t quite ready to let go. Not if he didn’t have to.

If he’s not my brother, Eriks told himself. It’s just a ‘what if’ and only if it turns out we’re not related.

For the first time ever, Eriks found himself hoping that he wasn’t about to find his family.

By the time the sun came up, Eriks’ mind was no less of a scrambled mess than it had been when the sun had set. There was only one thing he knew — he couldn’t run away from this. No matter what the answer was, he had to know.

He wasn’t entirely sure what outcome he was hoping for.

“So,” Wolfwood said that morning over breakfast, “what do you want to do?”

“I need to know,” Eriks said, trying to sound more decisive than he truly felt. Maybe if he did, he’d convince himself that this really was the best idea. “Whatever the truth may be, I’ll learn how to cope with it. I can’t leave without trying though.”

“All right.” A grin spread across Wolfwood’s face, one very similar to the look he had when they first met — one Eriks now recognized of a plan forming. “Time to say screw proper channels. We’re playing dirty now.”