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“...Astel.”
“Izuru!” Astel chirps, bouncing from where he was curled up on his bed. The prince’s hands immediately reach out for his own, and Izuru obliges. He lets Astel uncurl and curl his fingers, humming a melody they both created. For a little while, Izuru lets himself catch his breath, and mute out the world around him. For a little while, it’s just the two of them, in one of the safest, quietest rooms in the castle, as usual, and everything is fine.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s happening now? No one wants to talk to me today, those ungrateful—” And just like that, their world expands, and Izuru finds himself focusing on the faint, yet terrifying sounds beyond the castle walls. Just like that, Izuru remembers what he came here for.
He can’t— he can’t hesitate now. Not here. Not now. Not after all these years of letting the prince do as he pleases, not after standing by as the prince orders an execution for the tiniest mishap.
“Astel, you’re going to die.”
There. Maybe if he says it like that, then Astel will actually listen, and they can figure out what to do next. He isn’t letting things end this way. Maybe, after this, Astel will finally realize everything he’s been doing wrong, and he’ll go back to the Astel he knows, and everything will be okay again.
Astel tilts his head.
“I can’t die,” Astel says, blinking, and Izuru knows he genuinely believes it. “I can’t— they can’t kill me, right? They’re all my subjects. And good little subjects don’t defy their prince.”
He finds that the words come easier, spilling out without any sign of stopping. “They’re tired. They’ve had enough of your— your games. They’re angry, and they want to… give you what to deserve.”
Karma. Izuru understands it very well— all too well. Of course you’ll get what you deserve, you reap what you sow— that’s just how things are. That’s just how this world works. And yet—
“They can’t kill me!” Astel says again, with the smile that Izuru’s grown to hate just a little bit. “You’re here. You’ll protect me, and then we can play again. Right?”
Izuru doesn’t know what Astel did to deserve this, living a delusion only he himself understands, blind to what his country, his people consider right and wrong.
Izuru doesn’t know what happened when they were separated all those years ago. Astel may have forgotten, forgotten the before, forgotten how much that beach meant to them, forgotten him, but Izuru remembers. Izuru remembers his brother, smaller and much more timid yet much kinder, asking him how they could help a starving or hurting person, as they followed their parents’ footsteps.
He doesn’t get it.
He hates this. He hates everything, everyone who ever let Astel turn to— this. He hates himself the most. If those selfish adults hadn’t left and took Astel away, took the Astel he knew away, if they weren’t born within these castle walls, if Izuru didn’t just stand and watch—
“I can’t…” His fists are clenched, trimmed nails digging to calloused palms. “I can’t… fight that many people.” The sword on his belt feels heavy. “They’re…” Fuck, the revolution— he doesn’t even want to think about his foster family. He’s pretty sure that Shien’s leading the revolution, but does he know that Izuru ordered the death of their adoptive father?
Astel isn’t the only one who’s made so many mistakes, hasn’t he? All of this… it’s also his fault. No matter how he explains himself in front of the court, no matter how much he wants to protect Astel until the bitter end, he’s also the one who willingly picked up every piece. He protected Astel’s shitty delusion, he still hurt all of Astel’s subjects, just to make the prince happy for a little longer.
“Izuru.” Astel’s voice is soft, and not at all scared, and Izuru’s relieved, yet he hates it so much. “I don’t know why you’re so worried, but as a good prince, also since I’m in a good mood—” he whispers the last part under his breath. Still as fickle as ever. “—I’ll help you. You’ve helped me so much, so let me do this. Okay?”
His eyes blur, and his cheeks feel warmer than usual. His hands reach out to dab at warm, salty tears, and it takes everything he has to not break down right here, right now. Another pair of hands mimic his own, and Izuru almost laughs at the awkward motions and confused noises. Astel decides whatever he’s doing isn’t enough, and he lets out a frustrated huff.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits.
“You’re terrible at this,” Izuru quips.
“I just said— I don’t know how to do this!” Astel attempts to pull at his hair, but it just feels like rather aggressive petting. Izuru isn’t sure how to feel about this. “You really are the most annoying one in this kingdom! Maybe I should just throw you off the balcony—”
“I don’t want to hear that from you! Your voice’s the most grating thing in the kingdom— no, no, the entire world!”
“Are you disobeying me? Y’know, just because you’re my favorite servant doesn’t mean you’re completely safe from punishments!”
“Bring it on, then! I know that you’ll just—”
Ring.
It’s the sound of the church bell. “Oh, is it already three?” Astel circles around him again, waving an arm in front of his less-blurry eyes. “It’s teatime, Izuru! We gotta head to the garden fast! Aw, I haven’t seen the chefs today— I hope they make brioche today, if they know what’s good for them… …uh, Izuru? Are you okay?”
The church bell just rang. It’s three in the afternoon. And he remembers the court’s judgment, Shien’s heated declaration— we’ll have the son of evil’s head by three.
Fuck. They’re here. The prince is going to be executed.
His brother’s going to be killed.
“Sorry,” he chokes out. “We’ll have to miss teatime.”
“But you never miss teatime!” Astel is whining again, but Izuru can’t bring himself to care. It’s time. It’s already time. They’ve run out of time. They’re going to kill him, and maybe Izuru, too, if he stays.
When he stays. He’s not leaving his own blood like that. Not again.
“Astel, please— they’re coming soon. They’re going to take you again—”
“Again?” For a split second, jade eyes are staring at his soul, picking him and his words apart, but they blink and the look is gone. “Izuru, I don’t get it… don’t get what you mean…”
If it’s already this bad, then no one will listen to anything anymore. Not Astel, still not comprehending the idea of a rebellion. Not the leaders, who have seen and suffered far too much to ever back down. Not those disgusting political heads, who’ll take any chance to rip each other apart and come out on top.
If it’s already this bad, then there’s nothing else to lose.
Izuru has nothing else to lose. He’s already made so many mistakes. What’s a few more?
All that matters now is that Astel lives.
That’s all that matters.
As Izuru tries to steady his hands, his heart, his everything, his eyes land on Astel’s wardrobe. The wardrobe, filled with all kinds of clothes and accessories, for when Astel decided he wanted to play dress-up during teatime.
Izuru decides. He can’t hesitate anymore. Even if this isn't the Astel he knows— even if this isn't the Astel he knew—
“...I have an idea. Just... please, listen to me properly.”
“Okay!” The smile is back again, so Izuru tries not to resent the sight of it and savors it. “What is it?”
They can’t go back from here. They’ve made their decisions, hurt too many people to ever voice their regrets and pretend it never happened. They’re stubborn in their own ways, but there’s always a time where they have only one choice, and this is that time. If they’re going to take Astel and cleave his head off, as a form of spiteful irony, a mocking mimicry of one of his favorite pastimes—
—then Izuru will take his place. Just as deserved.
If only we could be reborn— let’s play again then, okay?