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t â location: Saint's St. Chapel
religion is not relevant to this story but this is based on a roman catholic church bc it was easy
Aika's family had never been particularly religious, not so far as she can recall. But there's some mystic beauty to churches that she's always felt in her soul- the carefully built stone, the intricate glass windows, the soft, flickering candlelight.
It was her father's wish to be buried in the Saint's Street cemetery, beside his wife who had died when Aika was just an infant. As such, Aika and Akira thought it as good a thought as any to hold his funeral service in the Saint's Street Chapel.
Less of a distance to walk the casket, she supposed.
Aika stands atop the pulpit in a sparkling white and silver dress she'd worn to last year's school dance. Unlike her brother, she hadn't owned anything black, and to find a dress to rent or borrow had seemed too big a task at the time. She doesn't regret her decision- this dress is familiar, comforting. A Grey King's suit of honor.
The chapel has been filled for half an hour now, but Aika stands gazing at the box that holds her father and can't find a single thing to say.
What do you say to a room full of people who only ever knew him halfway?
The chapel doors open with a groan.
Aika turns around and all at once, the chapel is filled with light, the afternoon sun bursting in through the open doors. Aika raises a hand against the light but sees only the vague shapes of people entering. Many people. The doors begin to close again and hushed voices erupt in the crowd as Aika's vision clears.
She can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her.
It's the Red King.
No- not just him. There's a crowd of people of all ages at his back, at least thirty of his Clansmen. They fill the walkway and the vestibule. A few glance about the room, meeting the other Clan's disapproving stares with arrogant smiles or glares. But many of them look dutifully onward, expressions hardened with determination.
Aika sees her brother rise from his seat in the front row and join her, standing on the pulpit steps a few feet away. She doesn't tell him to sit back down. She knows he won't. She may not believe the rumors of the Red Clan, but this display...
No one knows what to expect from the Red King and his Clansmen.
The Red King stops at the front row of pews and the crowd stills behind him. Aika eyes him with what she hopes comes across as curiosity rather than distrust. At his side stand a young boy with fiery orange hair and a tall, distinguished-looking woman. A tiny brunette girl holds his hand and gazes about in wonder.
This is the Red Clan, and it is not what she had expected.
Aika stands perfectly still beside her brother and watches the Red King gently pry his hand from the child clinging to him. He continues forward and this time, his Clansmen do not follow. Aika's eyes follow him as he ascends into the pulpit, but he doesn't stop or even glance in her direction.
The Red King pauses before the casket, and for a moment, it feels as if the room itself has held its breath. Aika stands still, and observes.
The Red King places a hand on the casket and bows his head.
He remains there for only a few seconds, but the action is clear. He is paying his respects to the dead. Aika lets out a breath and feels her nerves begin to soothe.
Arata turns from the casket with a fire in his eyes, and Aika can feel the tension rise once again. But she is not afraid. She stands with her head high and meets his gaze unflinchingly, hands folded neatly before her. Arata narrows his eyes at her, just a bit, and Aika gets the faintest impression that she's passed a test.
When Arata speaks, he speaks loud and clear, but he doesn't look away.
This message is for her.
"Your father did me a favor once. I never got the chance to repay him for it."
Aika feels her heart ache at the words, another reminder that her kind, kind father is gone, that there may be things he left undone, words he left unsaid.
Arata stands even taller, almost threatening. Aika does not look away.
"Since I can't properly repay what he did for me, I would like to offer you that favor in his place." Arata says. There is a knowing smile in his eyes.
Aika's heart skips a beat.
Instantly, the room breaks out into hushed conversation, exclamations of shock and accusations and questions of what reason could he possibly have for this?
Someone laughs. Aika's pretty sure it's one of the Red Clansmen.
Arata steps forward until Aika can see the lines of exhaustion and grief around his eyes. Again, she does not break his gaze, even as her brother flies to her side and hovers a hand at her back. Arata holds a hand out to her and a flame flickers into being in his palm, small and warm. Several guests cry out in anger.
But there is no malice in Arata's eyes, and all Aika sees is another test.
"One favor." He says, quietly this time. "If you ask, the Red Clan will answer."
This is nothing she could have ever expected.
The Red Clan appearing after years of absence from the Council, paying respect to her father, offering her one single favor that looks an awful lot like loyalty...
Aika doesn't have to think twice.
She trusts as she takes his hand in both of hers that the fire will not hurt her, and it fades the moment she touches it, a fleeting sensation like touching soft paper. She bows her head and smiles brighter as Arata does the same in return.
"I am honored to have earned such kindness from the Red Clan." She says.
Arata smiles, just a bit.
Then he gently slides his hand from hers and retreats down the steps, returning to his Clansmen. Aika smiles as she watches the crowd filter out of the chapel, each of them ignoring the tension around them. The Red Clan has not been accepted in the Council for many years, and there is hatred simmering among the pews.
But Aika just smiles, because she has gained an ally.
And today, in this room full of people who only ever knew her father halfway, who look at her with disappointment, an ally is all she ever could have asked for.
religion is not relevant to this story but this is based on a roman catholic church bc it was easy
Aika's family had never been particularly religious, not so far as she can recall. But there's some mystic beauty to churches that she's always felt in her soul- the carefully built stone, the intricate glass windows, the soft, flickering candlelight.
It was her father's wish to be buried in the Saint's Street cemetery, beside his wife who had died when Aika was just an infant. As such, Aika and Akira thought it as good a thought as any to hold his funeral service in the Saint's Street Chapel.
Less of a distance to walk the casket, she supposed.
Aika stands atop the pulpit in a sparkling white and silver dress she'd worn to last year's school dance. Unlike her brother, she hadn't owned anything black, and to find a dress to rent or borrow had seemed too big a task at the time. She doesn't regret her decision- this dress is familiar, comforting. A Grey King's suit of honor.
The chapel has been filled for half an hour now, but Aika stands gazing at the box that holds her father and can't find a single thing to say.
What do you say to a room full of people who only ever knew him halfway?
The chapel doors open with a groan.
Aika turns around and all at once, the chapel is filled with light, the afternoon sun bursting in through the open doors. Aika raises a hand against the light but sees only the vague shapes of people entering. Many people. The doors begin to close again and hushed voices erupt in the crowd as Aika's vision clears.
She can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her.
It's the Red King.
No- not just him. There's a crowd of people of all ages at his back, at least thirty of his Clansmen. They fill the walkway and the vestibule. A few glance about the room, meeting the other Clan's disapproving stares with arrogant smiles or glares. But many of them look dutifully onward, expressions hardened with determination.
Aika sees her brother rise from his seat in the front row and join her, standing on the pulpit steps a few feet away. She doesn't tell him to sit back down. She knows he won't. She may not believe the rumors of the Red Clan, but this display...
No one knows what to expect from the Red King and his Clansmen.
The Red King stops at the front row of pews and the crowd stills behind him. Aika eyes him with what she hopes comes across as curiosity rather than distrust. At his side stand a young boy with fiery orange hair and a tall, distinguished-looking woman. A tiny brunette girl holds his hand and gazes about in wonder.
This is the Red Clan, and it is not what she had expected.
Aika stands perfectly still beside her brother and watches the Red King gently pry his hand from the child clinging to him. He continues forward and this time, his Clansmen do not follow. Aika's eyes follow him as he ascends into the pulpit, but he doesn't stop or even glance in her direction.
The Red King pauses before the casket, and for a moment, it feels as if the room itself has held its breath. Aika stands still, and observes.
The Red King places a hand on the casket and bows his head.
He remains there for only a few seconds, but the action is clear. He is paying his respects to the dead. Aika lets out a breath and feels her nerves begin to soothe.
Arata turns from the casket with a fire in his eyes, and Aika can feel the tension rise once again. But she is not afraid. She stands with her head high and meets his gaze unflinchingly, hands folded neatly before her. Arata narrows his eyes at her, just a bit, and Aika gets the faintest impression that she's passed a test.
When Arata speaks, he speaks loud and clear, but he doesn't look away.
This message is for her.
"Your father did me a favor once. I never got the chance to repay him for it."
Aika feels her heart ache at the words, another reminder that her kind, kind father is gone, that there may be things he left undone, words he left unsaid.
Arata stands even taller, almost threatening. Aika does not look away.
"Since I can't properly repay what he did for me, I would like to offer you that favor in his place." Arata says. There is a knowing smile in his eyes.
Aika's heart skips a beat.
Instantly, the room breaks out into hushed conversation, exclamations of shock and accusations and questions of what reason could he possibly have for this?
Someone laughs. Aika's pretty sure it's one of the Red Clansmen.
Arata steps forward until Aika can see the lines of exhaustion and grief around his eyes. Again, she does not break his gaze, even as her brother flies to her side and hovers a hand at her back. Arata holds a hand out to her and a flame flickers into being in his palm, small and warm. Several guests cry out in anger.
But there is no malice in Arata's eyes, and all Aika sees is another test.
"One favor." He says, quietly this time. "If you ask, the Red Clan will answer."
This is nothing she could have ever expected.
The Red Clan appearing after years of absence from the Council, paying respect to her father, offering her one single favor that looks an awful lot like loyalty...
Aika doesn't have to think twice.
She trusts as she takes his hand in both of hers that the fire will not hurt her, and it fades the moment she touches it, a fleeting sensation like touching soft paper. She bows her head and smiles brighter as Arata does the same in return.
"I am honored to have earned such kindness from the Red Clan." She says.
Arata smiles, just a bit.
Then he gently slides his hand from hers and retreats down the steps, returning to his Clansmen. Aika smiles as she watches the crowd filter out of the chapel, each of them ignoring the tension around them. The Red Clan has not been accepted in the Council for many years, and there is hatred simmering among the pews.
But Aika just smiles, because she has gained an ally.
And today, in this room full of people who only ever knew her father halfway, who look at her with disappointment, an ally is all she ever could have asked for.