#last chapter written almost a year after the others so bear with me pls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renxamamiya · 4 years

Text

Theatre of Mirrors - Prologue

Here it is finally! I’m so excited to start this fanfic, with this au no less! This fanfic is going to be not only my longest in terms of written words, but also with chapters. I hope all of you are in for the ride, and also help me see through this fic to its conclusion!

Also, I’m thinking about putting this on AO3 also but idk, tell me your opinions pls I need it.

Warning though, this fic contains P5R spoilers for most, if not all, of the game. I’ve done my best to not include any within this chapter, but subsequent chapters WILL have them.

Special thanks to @digifangirl97 for reading this beforehand, @rui-the-galax-angel for being my constant source of inspiration and motivation to even start writing this au, and @yusuke-of-valla for promoting it. Other special tags include @nowyoureblue and @mad4turtles for being my biggest fans!

Rain pattered upon the concrete streets of Tokyo, grey clouds obscuring the Sun, only allowing slithers of its golden rays to trickle out. This was uncommon weather during the Spring, rain being transitional after snow, watering plants that were starting to bloom anew. Underneath his umbrella Ren waited patiently for the crossroad lights to change, packed between crowds of unruly people, his umbrella acting as a personal sanctuary against the relentless shower poured from above.

“Hey.” Morgana murmured, popping out from the bag he often slung behind his arm, “Is this gonna take any longer? The rain’s starting to get heavier you know.”

Ren rolled his eyes at the otherwise impatient cat, “I can only control so much, your majesty.” he replied sarcastically in his head, but held back his tongue as the crossroad lights turned green. He briskly started walking, no doubt not wanting to get caught up by the sudden torrent of movement, the risk of getting trampled by restless crowds did not appeal that much to him.

A year after his adventures within the Metaverse, where he stole the hearts of corrupt individuals and killed a God, Ren returned to the city from his country town. Pursuing an education of the culinary arts, he bought himself a small condo room using money he squirreled away from his adventures as the leader of the Phantom Thieves, his own sanctuary located within the bustling city. He lived on his own (if you excluded Morgana), his parents indifferent when he left them back at Inaba, not caring about their delinquent son; something he had counted on when applying for the education for a less traditional, ‘successful’ job.

“Have you got an email back yet?” Morgana asks, again perching his front paws on his shoulder, Ren shook his head.

“I’m going to check now.” he replied, before retreating into a small alleyway, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the lock screen photo, an image of all his Phantom Thieves smiling at the camera, before sliding it open. Quicky tapping on the screen, he flicked through his emails, letters and words reflecting on the fake lens of his glasses.

“Well?”

“I’m trying to find the email, Mona.” Ren breathed, purposely controlling his tone of annoyance towards the animal. Scanning the multiple titles with his grey eyes, it took minutes to find the email he wanted, it being buried amongst a number of promotional letters. As soon as he saw the words ‘APPLICATION STATUS’ he tapped hopefully on it, reading it eagerly. However, he soon found his eagerness waning, disappointment instead replacing it.

“Dear Mr Amamiya,” the email started, the introduction formal, unassuming to the power it held for his future prospects.

“We regret to inform you that your application for the Matsuhisa School for Culinary Arts has been rejected, since you have not reached the target grade in order to within the program. If you think there is a mistake, please contact…..”

Ren stopped reading, turning off his phone and putting it in his pocket, too ashamed at himself to continue. He suppressed a cry, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist. He didn’t want Morgana to witness his moment of weakness, especially while in public.

“Ren? Are you okay?”

Ren turned to Morgana, the cat looking at him with worried, blue eyes. How he hated at times that Morgana was with him for most of the day, hiding comfortably in his bag while Ren walked around Tokyo, almost as a slave to him. Yet he admitted to himself a long time ago that he’d come to rely on the presence of the feline to keep him sane, preferring Morgana to his own thoughts.

Ren blinked, grey eyes still shimmering with tears, blinking rapidly in thought, before he forced a smile on his lips.

“I’m fine.” he lied.

A sharp, hot pain suddenly shot through his head, Ren wincing momentarily, it dissipating as quickly as it came, only to be replaced with a feeling of sudden nausea.

“Morgana, what’s happen-” Ren slurred, another wave of nausea echoing in his brain, him trying to keep his balance as the world around him suddenly whirled at dizzying speed. The feeling was… unfamiliar. A feeling he felt he recognised, but the origin on the tip of his tongue.

“M-”

Before Ren could utter another word, he quickly lost consciousness, black abruptly consuming his vision.

“-en. R...n. Ren!”

Ren struggled to open his eyes, his head heavy, his mouth dry.

“-en, get up.”

He manages to blink them open somewhat, eyelids heavy, his hearing muffled.

“Ren!”

A sudden burst of energy managed to allow his eyelids to flutter open, grey eyes hazy and unfocused. Another round of blinks managed to allow him to stir awake, him pulling himself into sitting upright on the floor. He rested his forehead in one of his hands, back curved outward, groaning as the last of the dizzy spell dissipated.

“Ren, are you okay?”

“I’m fine Morgana.” he says, his head out from his hand, looking at his feline friend. It only takes him another minute to realise that Morgana’s standing on his hind legs.

“Morgana, why are you…” he trails off, taking a second this time to connect the dots. Morgana was standing perfectly on his hind legs. He stood on his hind legs only in the Metaverse. If he was on his hind legs here…. Then that means…..

They were both in the Metaverse.

The Metaverse had returned.

But…. how?

The myth that cats have nine lives did not escape the fleeting thoughts of Morgana as he struggled to get himself off the concrete ground beneath him. He was nestled comfortably in Ren’s bag when his friend suddenly collapsed, the momentum of his falling body causing Morgana to be flung out of his vehicle. A blur of events later the cat found himself on the ground.

“Ow……” Morgana groaned, feeling dull, throbbing pain on his head and body. It was a miracle that he was still alive, no doubt one of his nine lives evaporated as he impacted the ground. Still shaking, he spent another while on the concrete, his eyesight slowly coming back, strength gathering to his limbs. It took another breath for him to push himself into standing.

He took the time to gather his thoughts. He fell. Down. Hard. Because Ren… Ren…. Ren!

“Ren?” was Morgana’s first mutter since regaining his footing, memories flooding back. They were in an alleyway minutes ago, Ren reading one of his emails, his expression turning from hopefulness to one of hopelessness. Morgana asked what was wrong. Ren told him he was okay. Then. Then....

Morgana huffed, crossing his arms. The moment of realisation hit right after.

His eyes widened in shock, uncurling his arms and looking at his front paws. He was standing. On his hind legs. He reached to feel his neck, the familiar handkerchief wrapped around it in place of his bright yellow collar.

"The Metaverse?" he questioned out loud, and looking up he got his answer. The sky was coloured light red, a detail that often accompanied them when entering the bizarre dimension.

"But why… no… that's not important right now. I need to find Ren and then get out of here." he thought to himself, shaking his head before starting to look around his surroundings. Spotting Ren sprawled on the floor a couple of feet away, Morgana hopped towards the boy.

"Ren." The cat muttered, approaching his friend, his ears perking up in high alert. They were in a compromising spot, too open and vulnerable for shadows to attack them in this unknown realm. Ren was lying down on his stomach, his eyes closed, chest rising slowly up and down. Good, he was breathing. Morgana continued to scan their surroundings vigilantly.

"Ren," Morgana continued to pester the unconscious body of the boy, hoping to stir him awake, "Ren. Ren!"

Ren began to stir beneath his paws, Morgana running to see his face, the boy struggling to open his eyes.

"Ren, get up!"

Ren’s eyes fluttered, struggling to keep open, his consciousness threatening to ebb away.

“Ren!”

Ren’s eyes shot open, grey and unfocused, darting around frantically. Morgana felt relief as Ren fluttered his eyes a couple of times. A groan escaped out of his throat, Morgana backing away from him, allowing his friend the space to regain his bearings.

“Ren, are you okay?” he asks, Ren nodding in his hand in response.

“I’m fine Morgana.” Ren says, taking his head out from his hand to look at his feline friend. A moment later, Morgana held his breath as Ren’s eyes widened in shock. He had also realised that they were again in the Metaverse.

“How?” Ren asked, again blinking rapidly, confusion solidifying on his face, his heart beginning to beat rapidly from a sudden wave of anxious fear. Taking a moment, he looked around, his expression more worried as the seconds ticked by “Morgana, what’s-”

“I’m just as confused as you are.” the cat muttered, looking at Ren, a significant detail popping into his head, “You’re not in your thief outfit as well. Something is definitely going on.”

“You’re…. You’re right.” Ren said shakily, just then reaching for the mask on his face that wasn’t there, “Morgana.” he breathes to his friend, masking his growing anxiety with a commanding tone, “We need to get… we need to get out here.”

“No disagreements here.” Morgana nodded, “The fact that the Metaverse has returned, and you not gaining your thief outfit means that something’s definitely going on here. Something powerful.” he mused, “Something….. Unprecedented.”

Ren nodded, agreeing with his partner in crime. He reached for his phone in his pocket.

But it was empty.

“Hey.” Morgana mutters, seeing Ren anxiously patting his trousers, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to find my phone.”

“Your phone?” Morgana asks, “You mean the one with the Metanav right?”

“Yeah.” Ren replies as he continues to grasp for his phone. Did they even get here via the Metanav? He wasn’t so sure, the gap in time between him in reality and him in the Metaverse too abstract for him to even recollect.

“I remember you looking at it before we came here, are you-”

“Mona.” Ren sharply snapped, breath ragged, eyes wide and scared, pale hands shaking. Morgana recoiled back in shock. Ren was normally calm and collected, his cool head a feature that was crucial for him to function as the treasured leader of the phantom thieves. Under normal circumstances, Morgana reasons, this kind of behaviour would be unlike him.

However, the circumstances they both found themselves in were anything but normal.

“Hey, Ren. Just calm down okay?” Morgana said, trying his best to comfort his friend as his own feelings of anxiety began to swell, “We’ll get out of this. We always do.”

Ren stopped his frantic searching to look at Morgana.

“Yeah.” he smiled. Though Morgana’s words did little to help quell the anxious feeling swirling his stomach, he did appreciate what his friend was attempting to do, “But, if I can’t find my phone, what do you suggest we do, Mona?”

Morgana hummed, crossing his arms in contemplation. His gaze drifted towards the horizon amongst the barren wasteland. He could see lights flickering invitingly. He peaked his ears, hearing the sounds of chatter, laughter and music coming from the same spot.

“I think since we’re here, we do a little bit of reconnaissance, see what we’re up against.” he suggested to Ren, the boy following his gaze towards the commotion.

The source of the lights and laughter belonged to a theatre, it’s exterior grand and welcoming, reds and golds generously decorating the walls and staircase leading up to it, ornate statues gesturing towards the doors, ushering all who approached it inside. The building was tall. Long, glittering columns extended seemingly endlessly towards the heavens, figures that were carved within the marble supporting each distinct floor on their shoulders surrounded the width of the ornate, glass stained windows depicting unknown figures glowed with yellow light as both Morgana and Ren approached it.

“Whoa…” Morgana said, amazed at how beautiful, “What is this place? It looks amazing, right Ren?”

“It is.” Ren nodded in agreement, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this structure. It looked… familiar. It felt familiar, as if he had once seen this particular palace in a dream. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He curled his lips into an unsure frown, “But….”

“But what?” Morgana asks, turning his head around to look at Ren, seeing the concerned expression behind the thick, framed glasses the boy wore.

“It’s…. Nothing.” Ren shook his head before giving a toothy grin at Morgana, yet it did not reach his eyes, “I’m just worried about not having my infiltration outfit, that’s all. But the fact that the Palace owner - whoever it is - doesn’t see us as a threat is good. Kind of like Futaba in a way.”

“Yeah, until she decided not to.” Morgana huffed, crossing his arms, “Then she tried to kill us.”

“She was unconsciously pushing us away.” Ren shrugged, starting to climb the steps to the theatre, “I don’t blame her.”

“True.” Morgana hummed in agreement, following Ren up the staircase, “You think the Palace owner is someone like her?”

“You mean, emotionally troubled and seeking help?” Ren asks, turning from Morgana towards the front of him, “I wouldn’t be surprised. My thief attire not appearing does support that. Maybe the owner really needs help. Maybe they want it.”

“You may be right, but it still doesn’t explain-"

Morgana’s out loud thoughts were cut short as the both of them entered the theatre, the sight of the interior so grand it took both their breaths away.

The amount of regalness of the interior of the theatre matched in grandness of its exterior. A sea of red carpet stretched wide on the floor, white marble walls were accented with glittering gold archways and columns. Velvet curtains hung next to the stained glass windows, golden lights glew upon golden chandeliers, the decorations luxurious without being gaudy. Ren however was drawn to the fountain nested between the staircase that curved upwards into the depths of the theatre, guests casually gliding up and down twin staircases, ignoring the boy and cat completely.

“Wow, what a place. The owner sure has taste when it comes to luxurious decor.” Morgana said, marvelling the foyer of the theatre, humanoid cognitions avoiding them as they talked amongst themselves.

“Yeah..” Ren trailed off, scanning the interior design with his eyes before him. Gery irises settled between the fountain nestled between the two staircases, and before he knew it he was walking towards the fountain, almost entranced by it. If he had paid closer attention to his surroundings like his feline friend at that moment, he would have quickly realised his fatal move.

To Ren, the fountain seemed to call to him. Faces were carved within the smooth, black obsidian, masks of all expressions decorated the bottom, the foreheads carved with numbers seemingly at random, accented with gold. Within the middle of the fountain sat a figure sitting on a tipped jar in which water flowed from. They were surrounded by masks suspended seemingly by magic, yet these weren’t the same masks that decorated the bottom of the fountain, each of them an individual, unique shape, made out of what looked to be like crystal. Light green, yellow, pink, blue, white, dark green, purple, black, and pale gold. His eyes trailed from the glittery masks towards the figure. They were sitting cross legged, details of their long, flowing coat lovingly carved in stone, winklepickers curved, waistcoat accented with gold. Ren noted to himself that the figure’s costume looked just like…

The golden accented mask gave it all away.

Ren’s eyes widened in stunned alarm, stumbling back reflexively in complete disbelief. The masked man’s familiar smirk, the way his messy hair curled, his eyes, golden gems glittering in the light. No. No no no! It was impossible! Impossible! Ren turned to run, but as he turned, pairs of arms wrapped around each of his, grabbing tightly, Ren struggling within their hold, kicking and thrashing, twisting his body, yet their grip only tightened.

“Morgana!” he screamed in desperation, craning his head back straining to hear his friend’s response, yet he could only hear the faint squeaks of frantic meowing as a blur of black blocked the view of the bipedal feline.

“Get off of me!” Ren screamed, still twisting his body, trying to get away from the grip of the strong armed shadows, kicking and flailing as the shadows dragged him towards the old fashioned elevators that stood vigilantly next to the stairs. The cognitive people did nothing but watch, ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ as he was dragged into the claustrophobic box, Ren sickly noting that all of them were wearing inverted mockeries of his domino mask. The doors closed, and Ren gritted his teeth to repress a sob as the demented husks of the masses applauded joyfully at his the spectacle that was his misery, clearly entertained by it.

The elevator shook with life before moving, Ren looking above to find them going up, the indicating lights ascending up a list of randomly placed numbers.

“Where are you taking me?” He asks one of the shadows restraining him, turning to find the same mockery of his mask perched upon its featureless face as they ascended, “Please, answer me!”

“You’re expected by our lead actor,” the other answered, Ren whipping to look at the other shadow holding onto his other arm, “He wants you to meet him in the Fool’s Theatre, says he wants his special guest escorted to his dressing room. You know how those big shots are, they get their fifthteen minutes of fame and suddenly they act like they own the place.”

Ren wanted to laugh at the shadow’s dry joke, but he couldn’t.

The allure of the grand decorations intoxicated Morgana as he wandered within the foyer with Ren. While the cat often had his guard up (something an ‘expert thief’ was required to do) the atmosphere in this particular palace seemed to lull him into a false sense of security. It felt… comfortable. Like the makeshift bedroom in the attic of Leblanc, or the cozy room at Ren’s Tokyo apartment. Morgana couldn’t quite put his paw on it, but it felt like he was at home again, that it was familiar.

He did not hear Ren leave his side, more occupied with the humanoid cognitions dotted around the foyer, all of them talking amongst themselves in hushed but excited tones, his ears pricking up at a conversation nearby.

“Is that him?” a woman asked her friend, looking over her shoulder.

“It probably is!” her friend giggled in amazement, “Gosh, I’m getting all flustered, do you think if I asked for his autograph he’d give it to me?”

“Oh my god, do you think he’d take a picture with us if we asked him nicely?”

Morgana turned to look at the two women, approaching them with caution.

“You should totally work your ‘womanly’ charms on him.”

“Do you think they’d even work on him? I think you’re just getting me to embarrass myself.”

“Of course! Then again, he’s so charming you’d probably fall flat on your face!”

Morgana looked around the theatre. There wasn’t any notable person that he could distinguish, most of the patrons looked like ordinary humans. Then again, Morgana reasons, this wasn’t a normal realm of existence.

“Who are they-”

“Oh my GOSH.” one of the girls squealed, Morgana turning his head to find the two women looking at him with wide, excited eyes. His own widened in terror. The two women were wearing masks, masks that look like Joker’s, as they continue to fawn over the feline thief, “It’s Mona-chan!”

“Mona-chan, may I get your autograph?!” her friend squealed as they approached Morgana, the both of them looking over him with disturbing glee, “Oh… you’re so cute, I could just hug you tightly like a plush!”

“Well, I appreciate the attention,” Morgana stammers, backing away from the two cognitions out of fear and disbelief, “But I’m currently in a ‘no-touch’ fur softening program, and-”

He turns, twisting his slender body, and runs from them.

"Mona-chan, come back!!" the two conditions called out to the cat, running after him, clearly fanatical towards the cat "We just want an autograph and a picture!"

"I'm sorry, my heart belongs only to Lady Ann!" he shouted back, weaving expertly between the legs of the cognitive guests, trying to find Ren amongst the sudden appearance of a large crowd. More whispers about what he presumed to be the Palace's owner muttered amongst the cognitions, yet he was too occupied to pay attention to their words. Peeking over his shoulder was the distraction that caused him to run into…

He stumbled back in a daze, but before he could react he was picked up by the shadow he impacted.

"There you are, you pesky cat." the shadow hisses as it picked Morgana up by the scruff of his neck. Morgana instinctively started to flail around, struggling against the sudden grip that he felt behind his throat, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth to find.”

“Let go of me!” Morgana shouted, continue to fight against the grip of the shadow, “If you don’t, I’ll-”

He heard Ren call his name in distress, the boy’s cries quickly being muffled by the crowd's cheer. With a new bolster of motivation of wanting to save Ren from the vulnerable young adult, Morgana continued to violently flail in the shadow’s grip, and has even resorted to clawing at the entity, trying desperately to force himself free from its grip.

“Ugh, stupid cat!” The shadow spat with malice as he continued to grip roughly at Morgana, clearly taking him somewhere away from where Morgana wanted to go, “Why do I always get all the shitty jobs.” it muttered to itself, another shadow approaching Morgana and his captor.

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” the newcomer asked in an exasperated tone, “Boss says he needs help with setting up the place for his guest. We got no time to waste in one stupid cat.”

“Yeah, but this pest won’t go willingly.” the shadow replied, still holding Morgana, “It’s fightin’ with all its might, can you give me a hand?”

“Hey, I am not a pest!” Morgana shouted defiantly, offended that the shadows would refer to him as such, flailing even harder against his captor’s grip, “Get your hands off of me! I’m warning you guys, I can slice you in half before you can even land a finger on me!”

“Oh, he’s so cute.” the other shadow chortled as he watched the struggling cat, “It’s almost too bad that we have to throw him out, I would even consider myself a fan of him.”

“Yeah, but the boss said-”

“I know what the boss said.” the other shadow snapped, and Morgana noticed goop spilling out of the shadow’s eyes. It stepped back, contorting sickly, limb flying and bending inhumanely, its body stuttering as more ooze continued to drip from it. A pause of movement lapsed before it dissolved to the ground, before shedding its disguise, revealing it to be none other than a Dionysus. Morgana eyed the shadow in fear.

“Hey, hold him still for a moment will you?” The Dionysus said, its fingers starting to crackle with electricity. Morgana’s eyes widened in alarm.

“C-C’mon you guys.” Morgana stammered, the moxie he showed instantaneously evaporating at the sight of the electricity dancing between the green shadow’s fingertips, “I’m s-sure you’ve got the wrong cat! Look, why don’t you let me go and I can talk it out with your boss? You wouldn’t hurt a little kitty cat like me would you?”

The two shadows looked at each other, amongst contemplatively, though their disingenuous smirks gave their true intentions away.

“Ziodyne!”

The last thing Morgana heard before unconsciousness reaped his senses was the round of applause the cognitions gave to an unknown spectacle, Ren’s muffled yelps for help still echoing in his mind.

The sound of cars whirring past and the idle chatter of people was what stirred Morgana awake, wet concrete from a day’s rain cooled his belly, shadows cast by the buildings above sheltered him from the rays of the hazy sun. He smacked his lips as he felt himself slowly stirring from his slumber, ears folded downwards towards the sides of his head, his legs trembling somewhat as he got up from the ground.

“Ren?” he asked, turning behind him, scanning the dark alleyway he suddenly appeared in, mind still heavy from whatever happened to him moments ago. His eyes drooped as he continued to lazily gaze into the shadows.

“Ren?” he asked again, words slurred. Where was the boy? Where was-

Oh. He suddenly remembered.

His ears shot up, his senses on high alert, memories that were lost clicked back into place. He and Ren were investigating that Palace, Ren was captured and dragged further in, him getting thrown out with no way of getting back. The cat started to panic, adrenaline running through his small body, heart beating faster and faster, him feeling like he’s drowning on dry land. Ren was in danger, he was in danger and Morgana could do nothing to help his friend! He felt useless as he paced around the empty alleyway, tracing invisible circles with his tracks as he tried to come up with a plan.

“Come on, Morgana.” he hissed at himself, his mind running full gear, yet the heavy fog of anxiety did nothing to help him come up with a plan. How to get into the Metaverse without a phone? Without a Nav? He was lost. Alone. vulnerable…

He gazed up at the sky. He felt so small. Like when he was alone after defeating the False God, disappearing in front of his friends, only to reappear alone in Shibuya.

He looked at the passing pedestrians, until he was struck with inspiration. He found his way back to Leblanc on his own before, right? Then there was the possibility of him finding the route back to the rundown cafe yet again. He knew he had at least an ally there, a person who he could count on at least helping him rescue Ren, and so he set off, careful not to get trampled on amongst the stampede of legs as he navigated his way around the metropolis that was Tokyo.

The pestering rain had stopped within the hour in the afternoon, the air hot and humid as puddles settled in the crevices of concrete, reflecting the yellows and orange sky brought by the sinking sun. The sweet, soothing sound of bird singing as they emerged from man made shelters did nothing to pierce the roar that was the constant machine of the city. Despite this, Yongen - Jaya could be considered a haven away from most of the megacity, a sanctuary formed by the rapid rise of urban demands, tucked away from tourists and troublemakers alike.

A girl walked out from the train station burrowed amongst the tightly squeezed buildings, head down as she was gazing at her phone behind dark framed glasses, oversized headphones hugging her neck as an accessory. Her natural hair was an oddity amongst the residents that lived in the small neighbourhood, but Futaba had lived there almost her whole life for anyone to give a second glance towards her.

She typed away on the screen, a piece of sucking candy resting between the roof of her mouth and tongue, effortly navigating around people and potholes, the narrow streets memorized from traversing them so much she knew each small detail like it was the back of her hand.

Futaba: yooooooooo kana guess what!!! Futaba: sojiro gave me some cash to go buy school stuff!!!!! on my own!!! Kana: that’s great omg! I didn’t do anything as fun today (；￣Д￣) Futaba: oh f Kana: work is a paaain sometimes, but i’ve almost got enough money to buy some new uniforms Futaba: oooooooo!!!! Kana: ikr!!!! anyways youre still in shujin right? Futaba: yeah, it’s too easy (－_－) zzZ Kana: oof Futaba: like I know it’s not prestigious but like….. booooooring Kana: didn’t you like ask to be enrolled there???? Futaba: yeah lol Futaba: i wanted to go there bc a really good friend went there and like

"Futaba!"

The girl looks up from her phone at the sound of her name.

"Futaba..."

The voice sounded familiar…. wasn't that…

"Down here!"

She looked down, a familiar black and white cat looking up at her with blue eyes.

"Mona?!" she exclaimed, crouching down to meet Morgana at his level, "What are you doing here? Where's Ren?" her eyebrows knitted. It was an enigma to see the cat separated from his beloved owner, and while Morgana was known to wander the streets of Tokyo on his own, he almost never did so without Ren a stone’s throw away.

"That's exactly why I came here." he replied, mowing in great urgency, "Ren's in trouble, and we need everyone's help if we're gonna rescue him. And I need a place to stay." He added, the last sentence spoken with a sheepish tone.

Futaba's eyes widened at the news that her brother figure was in trouble.

“Ren is in…? Ren is in…!?”

She suddenly crouched down.

“Ren is... is…”

Her breaths became fast and ragged and strained.

“..is…”

Her heart drummed and thumped in her ears, consuming her hearing entirely.

“Ren…”

She felt dizzy. Her eyes unfocused.

“Futaba?” Morgana asks, “Are you-”

She suddenly scoops the feline up, “What happened Mona?!” she shouted as she gently but firmly shook Morgana, “Did, did Shido’s men get him? Did someone else!? Please, tell me!”

“Futaba, stooooop!” Morgan shrieked, yet to all other bystanders, he was meowing furiously, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Oh, sorry.” she stops, gently putting the cat down, “But still, what’s going on?!”

Her voice started to crack. Morgana looked around their surroundings.

“Let’s go somewhere private.” Morgan said, as he turned to lead the girl towards Leblanc, “Leblanc is still open, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re not allowed there Mona.” Futaba points out, suddenly grabbing the cat, Morgana yelping in surprise, “Remember? Sojiro doesn’t want pets around food. You were only allowed in because you were always in Ren’s bag.”

“Not always.” Morgana huffs.

“Yeah right.” Futaba scoffs, though her anxiety did not quite dissipate from her voice, “Anyway, since we need a place to talk privately, I have somewhere in mind.”

“Where?”

“My room, you dumb.”

The only light in the room clicked on, Futaba wandering the cramp space with Morgana in her arms, her shopping bag full of stationary supplies hanging off her arm. She pushed the door to her room with her right foot, before settingling the contents she held onto her bed that sat nearby, Morgana hopping off and making himself comfortable amongst her untidy sheets as she dumped the bag she held before diving into her expensive looking office chair.

“So…” Futaba begins, eyeing the cat behind the frames of her glasses, brown eyes somewhat obscured by the lens from the glare of the lights above, “About….. About Ren.”

Morgana could tell that her facade was starting to crumble, her anxiety too overwhelming for her to swallow, hugging her legs, him thinking she was trying to comfort herself. He settled himself on the bed, before starting his explanation.

“Well...” he began, yet he was unsure where to start, looking down at his white paws, “I haven’t really processed everything myself…”

“Mona, please! I need to know!”

Morgana looked at Futaba, seeing that she was starting to cry.

“Okay… so… we were in Tokyo at around lunchtime. Ren was checking his emails for his letter of acceptance,”

“The one for that culinary school, right?” Futaba asks, Morgana nodding.

“Yeah. I asked him what it said as I couldn’t see the screen when he checked, but before he could respond he suddenly fainted.”

“He… suddenly fainted?” she asks, surprised, “Was he sick? Did he catch a cold earlier?”

“Not that I recall.” Morgana hummed doubtfully, “He was fine this morning, jittery even. Him fainting came out totally from nowhere. And so… when he fell, so did I.”

“Ouch, that must have hurt.” Futaba winced, yet she silently motioned Morgana to continue.

“Well, I woke up.”

“Yeah… but.”

“But what?”

Morgana looked down for a moment, hesitant to speak. Futaba gritted her teeth, anxiety again flaring up, squeezing her throat as her grip on her anxiety rapidly loosened between her fingers, “Mona. Mona I need to know.” her voice wavered, “Where did you wake up?”

“I... I woke up in the Metaverse.”

Pause. Neither of them made a sound. Morgana’s eyes gazed down. Futaba was too stunned to speak, too alarmed about the news of the re-emergence of that other world.

“You… you woke up in the Metaverse?!” Futaba half exclaimed, repeating Morgana to process the information for herself, yet she felt repeating the cat’s words with her voice only incurred more disbelief as she continued to inquire him, “The Metaverse.... It’s back?! How?!”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Morgana continued before Futaba’s thoughts could snowball into a panic attack, “But at the time, I was more concerned about Ren. He was dragged in there as well, and had no idea how we even got there.”

“Did he have his phone with him?” the girl asks, inching closer to the animal companion, “He must have accidentally tapped on the nav as it appeared.”

“That’s one of the things that bothers me about this situation.” Morgana admits, looking up at Futaba, “But, we woke up, his phone just… disappeared.”

“It… disappeared!?”

“Yeah. He swore he had with him before. He must have had, but when we woke up it was gone.”

“That’s… that’s…”

Morgana continued, “That wasn’t it. While Ren was looking for his phone I spotted-”

“A Palace.” Futaba finishes, Morgana nodding.

“Yeah, a Palace. You should have seen the surrounding area though.” he says, “While the rest of the surrounding buildings would remain intact, this palace had absolutely nothing surrounding it. Nothing but barren land, like the desert surrounding your palace.”

“A distortion that severe?” she mumbles, sitting back in her chair, “Whoever’s palace this is, definitely has a warped view on the World.”

“I agree.” Morgana nods, “So either the Palace Ruler only cares about nothing but themselves, or is a total shut in to have the surroundings distort that hard.”

“Like Shido… or me.”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” Futaba thinks, though her anxiety still caused the rapid thumping of her heart, “So the Palace Ruler sounds really powerful to be able to drag you into the Metaverse, but distorted enough to have the surroundings distort that much. What was the Palace anyway?”

“That’s another aspect of this that bothers me.” Morgana says, an ear of his twitching as he continued, “It was something really unexpected: it was a theatre.”

“Why would someone, who has such a severe distortion, have a theatre as a palace?” Futaba points out quizzically, “That’s really, really weird!”

“There’s more.” Morgana informs her, “When we went in there were cognitions of people. They were wearing masks. Joker’s mask.”

An alarm rang in Futaba’s head.

“J-Joker’s mask?! Are we dealing with a fan of some kind?!”

"Seems like it." Morgana agrees, flicking his two as he contemplates the possibility "It's the only explanation that makes sense. But that has to mean that the owner knows Ren is a Phantom Thief. But..."

He sighs in frustration, Futaba feeling her own sense of perplexion at the situation they were in, "It just doesn't make any sense!"

Futaba's gaze trails down towards the floor, silence falling between the two occupants.

An idea struck her mind, Futaba quickly grabbing her phone, typing away.

"What are you doing?" Morgana asks, perking somewhat in surprise.

Futaba: hey guys we got a problem

Futaba: like a really super big boss level problem

"Messaging the others." she answers back flatly, "If the Metaverse has come back and Ren's in trouble, we gotta get the others into this."

Her phone chimes with a new message:

Ryuji: yo what is it futaba Ryuji: did you forget to pre order a thing again

Futaba scoffs at Ryuji's message. Morgana jumps off her bed and onto her lap, the girl yelling at surprise by the sudden feeling of fur brush on her thighs.

Yusuke: I'm positive that Futaba has already pre ordered all the things she wants Ryuji, even if it seems pointless to you. Ryuji: i dunno man, i think it's kinda dumb to buy something really expensive just for some plastic…. Yusuke: She just sees value in things you don't, Ryuji. Ryuji: yeah says the guy who bought TWO LOBSTERS that one time Yusuke: That was a year and a half ago. When are you going to let go of that purchase? Ryuji: dude I'm just saying that you buy weird shit as well lol Ann: guys pls behave! futaba, I'm sorry you have to share a chat with these isiots omg Haru: What's the matter, Futaba-chan? Are you okay? Ann: *idiots Yusuke: What about that one occasion with that bracelet, Ryuji? Ryuji: i said it was an accident!

Futaba growled in annoyance as her phone continued to chime with messages.

Yusuke: 1,000 yen down the drain just because you lost it the next day. Makoto: Ryuji and Yusuke, are you seriously arguing about this now? Yusuke: At least my lobsters were key to developing my art. Ryuji: wtf yusuke you lost them the next day Ryuji: how did you lose a buncha lobsters??? Ryuji: IN A DORM Yusuke: I did not! They simply were thrown out by the staff… Makoto: It was silly to buy live lobsters without a proper container to house them… Haru: I remember everyone telling me about Yusuke’s lobsters when I first joined. Ann: guys didn’t futaba want to talk about something???

The ginger haired girl gritted her teeth in place of amusement. She loved her friends, but the last thing she needed was for them to mess around.

Haru: I still can’t believe he did so, but at the same time it is a very Yusuke thing. Ryuji: god ikr haru??

Didn’t they know that Ren was in trouble?

Ann: pfft that day was wild, i think we should go to the beach sometime again Ryuji: yeah so as long as uni doesn’t fuck me up again Yusuke: If you studied, university should be easy. Ryuji: I DO Yusuke: At least university is somewhat easier compared to the entrance exams… Haru: I would love to go to the beach with you guys! Makoto: I agree with Haru. I know I have a lot on my plate but I’ll be sure to plan ahead for all of you!

Futaba shakes with frustration. The phone in her hands shakes, she starts to tear up.

Haru: I really would have liked to, I’m still so jealous you got to go with Futaba! Makoto: We should ask Ren if he wants to go as well. Ryuji: oh yeah speaking of futaba, what’s ur prob girl Ann: og yeah futaba has a problem right?

She can’t take it anymore.

Futaba: REN IS IN TROUBLE Makoto: I completely forgot, sorry Futaba, what were you about to say?

Futaba sobs.Her tears falling down her face. Her phone fell silent.

What seemed like an eternity, it rang back to life again.

Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Ann: WHAT Haru: What???? Makoto: WHAT??? Yusuke: What happened? Futaba: mona came to find me Futaba: he said that the metaverse is back Makoto: Morgana is with you? Ryuji: but i thought we destroyed that shit! Ann: I thought we destroyed it!? Futaba: and there was a palace Haru: The Metaverse is back?! Yusuke: How is the Metaverse back? Futaba: and ren got caught Ryuji: OH FUCK Ryuji: BUT HOW?! Ann: how did he get caught!?

Futaba wipes the tears off from her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Morgana, who was reading the chat logs alongside the girl, snuggled against her chest as an attempt to comfort her.

Makoto: That’s highly unusual of him. Yusuke: Ren is a dramatic person, but even he wouldn’t be so careless as to get himself caught during a palace exploration.

“You should tell them.” Morgana suggests. He would have done it himself, lamenting the fact that he did not have hands or fingers. Futaba nodded, sniffling as her fingers still shook.

Ryuji: how did he get caught? Ann: why didn’t he tell us? Futaba: mona said he didn’t have his powers. Futaba: his outfit was gone. Futaba: and he lost his phone.

Another pause of silence.

Ryuji: what the shit….. Ann: what the…. Ryuji: WHAT THE SHIT Haru: … Makoto: But… why? Futaba: mona thinks that it’s a phantom thief fan or something Futaba: but even he’s not sure Haru: What was the palace? Ryuji: FAN MY ASS Makoto: But that doesn’t make any sense! Futaba: it was a theatre Makoto: For Ren to not be considered a threat and to get kidnapped Ann: a theatre, like where plays are performed? Makoto: The ruler must know that Ren is a Phantom Thief! Futaba: i guess Haru: Could it be one of Ren’s other friends that was aware about his identity? Ryuji: dude if it turned out to be mishima i’ll be so fucking angry Ann: But didn’t we change his heart ages ago? Makoto: I don’t think it’s Mishima. Haru: Yeah, I agree with Makoto. Makoto: Although I wouldn’t rule it out, it’s highly unlikely to be him at least. Yusuke: Futaba, did Morgana catch a glimpse at the owner’s shadow?

Futaba looked at the cat, who shook his head.

Futaba: no Haru: How unfortunate Ann: uh guys. Ryuji: what is it ann Yusuke: Yes, Ann? Makoto: Where’s Yoshizawa-chanby the way? Ann: i got a weird notif on my phone Haru: She’s most likely at practise, she should be on soon.

Futaba’s eyebrows knit together. A strange notification?

Futaba: from what app? Ann: i dunno but I don’t recognise it Futaba: can you tap it? Ryuji: probs an app you forgot you downloaded Yusuke: I got the same notification. Ryuji: wait what?! Makoto: I just did as well. Haru: Me too. I don’t remember downloading anything. Ryuji: shit me too, this is effing weird Ryuji: i’m gonna check it out

Her phone chimed, an alert sent to her phone as a banner dropped down on her screen. Sliding to properly assess the notification, she read it.

“THIS IS YOUR INVITATION TO THE PREMIER TO WITNESS THE SHOW THAT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD. BOOK NOW TO…” the notification read. Under normal circumstances, Futaba would dismiss it, already tired with the constant advertisements that seem to be able to continually slither their way onto their phone. However she didn’t. What caught her eye was not the message itself, but the small icon next to it alongside the lack of an app name.

The icon was red, black and white. It looked like… Joker’s mask.

She tapped on it, eager yet scared to see what it entailed. Her phone stopped for a second. Futaba waited impatiently, for she would have thought the phone had frozen on her had digital numbers of the internal clock had not ticked by past one minute after six.

Before she could utter a curse, the screen suddenly faded into black, transitioning to a screen she thought she’d never see again.

“The Nav?” she says curiously, Morgana sitting up, the reappearance of the navigation app too peaked his interest.

“Is there a bookmark?” Morgana asks, caning his head to meet her eyes, “Check to see if there is one.”

Futaba nods, once again scanning the options of the demented Navigation App before tapping on ‘Bookmarks’. She sees there is one entry. She taps on it.

Ryuji: what the FUCK Ryuji: FUCK

Her eyes widened. Her mouth hung agape.

Makoto: What’s wrong, Ryuji? Ryuji: CHECK THE NOTIF Ryuji: NOW

She covers her mouth as she choked a sob. Morgana rereads the entry over and over in utter disbelief.

Ann: OH MY GOD Yusuke: Is this some kind of sick prank?! Ann: OH MY GOF

“T-that’s impossible.” Morgana stammers, the colour of Futaba’s face now flushed out, her shaking almost violently, tears again flowing along the cusp of her eyes.

Makoto: I… I don’t even know what to say… Haru: Mona-chan said it was impossible! It should be, right? Ann: GUYS WHAT THE FUCK Ryuji: I KNOW RIGHT LIKE FOR REAL?!?!?!

“It should be!” the feline exclaims, “It should!”

Makoto: I don’t know how to feel.

Yusuke: This is absolutely surreal. This must be a dream.

Ann: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Yusuke: I even pinched myself.... Ryuji: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Futaba stares at the words. The key words. The key words to a palace. The key words to a palace that should be impossible to form. The key words to a palace that should not have existed.

The words taunted her. Glowing on her phone. She read them again, unable to keep her composure.

They read:

‘Name: Ren Amamiya.

Distortion: Theatre.

Location: The World.’

Darkness occupied his vision, Ren feeling the blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes. It was before he entered the theater on the top floor did the shadows decide to blindfold him, a cruel joke he decided, still feeling the bruises on his arms from the attempt to free himself as they robbed him of his sight. His arms were tied to something hard. Arm rests, he assumed, rope digging into his wrists. He was at least thankful that whatever he was bound to was comfortable, his body sinking into plush material.

He waited. Even took a nap, but when he awoke barely anything in his surroundings stirred.

With nothing to do, his mind wandered back to the numbers of the elevator. They made absolutely no sense to him. Why were they in a particular pattern?

Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. What did they mean? Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He thought some more. Three, star, six, four, two, seven, nine, eight, two, zero. He bit his lip in thought. Three, star, six, four-

The door to his prison opened. Heels clicked satisfyingly on the hard floor, the flap of a long coat could be heard as the door thud shut.

The mysterious newcomer hummed a tune somewhat recognisable by the bound boy. The footsteps got somewhat quieter. Ren could hear a rustle and the clink of ice knocking on glass, the swirling of liquid as it filled its container. The newcomer puts a container down, a sniff, a sip and a satisfied sigh. Ren said nothing. He dared not.

The footsteps started again, getting louder, the rattle of ice in water knocking glass more audible. The figure still hummed, carefree as Ren could feel their gaze trail along his body. They stopped when Ren could feel someone in front of him, the slight clinking of glass and the breaths from his observer almost syncing with the frenzied beating of his heart that banged rhythmically on his eardrums.

He felt a hand, a gloved hand, roughly grab the blindfold, yanking it upward. Ren yelps, the sudden action combined with the pain of the yank and the lights above seering his unfocused eyes that blinded him causing him pain. He squeezes his eyelids shut before opening them, blinking rapidly, the same gloved hand gently caresses his chin before tilting his head upwards.

When his eyes finally focused, he found familiar golden eyes framed behind a familiar mask staring back at grey.

#persona #persona 5 #ren amamiya #p5 morgana #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #dan's log #txt #myfanfic #palace: theatre of mirrors #LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

94 notes · View notes

odderancyart · 6 years

Text

On a Never Resting Sea

Chapter XXVI: Stay

First Last Epilogue

AO3

Summary: Razz, the heir of the Beobyrian Empire, is on his way home from a diplomatic mission as his ship gets attacked by pirates. Suddenly he finds himself taken as hostage, and it doesn’t seem like the pirates are planning to exchange him for a ransom anytime soon. How annoying.

Warnings: violence, death, blood, hostage holding, kidnapping, prostitution

Almost sagging in relief, Razz clenched Marmalade’s mane in his hand. Fucking hell that had been close. He would’ve gotten Red out of there nevertheless (he hoped, wanted to believe), but the Mother had really saved him from doing it with an inadequate reason. He’d have to get her another sacrifice, something bigger. Perhaps he could send after a bear from Skogr – Beobyra and Aellwyn’s only forest. Which was literally just named Forest because of that.

Still, he forced himself to remain straight and neutral as the crew left together with some guards to walk back to the castle. A disapproving mumble came from the Viscountess of Dreyma, and he turned to stare at her. “DID YOU SAY SOMETHING, MILADY?”

At his disapproving tone, she shook her head and curtsied lightly, despite still looking unhappy. “No, Your Majesty. Nothing.”

With a nod, he turned to look at his brother. Slim was staring at him. He did not look happy. With furrowed brow and his hands gripping his reins tightly, he quietly demanded an explanation. Whispering, Razz told him, “Back home, I’ll tell you, alright?”

As Slim nodded stiffly, he turned to the crowd, smiling. “WELL, THAT WAS DRAMATIC. BUT IT IS STILL THE SPRING SACRIFICE. CELEBRATE OUR MOTHER, BELOVED SUBJECTS, AND FEAST UNTIL DAWN IN HER HONOUR.”

At his words, the people shrugged. They seemed disappointed at the lack of the awaited mass-execution, even angry, but none of them complained. Partially because it was Razz’s right to do however he wished, partially because it had obviously been the Mother’s will, and probably partially because the small army of Elites standing behind him. The music began to play again, and everyone marched back to the Hills of Ancient for the continued feast. Even so, Razz waved Alphys to his side.

“Let’s go home,” he told her, and she grinned widely, nodding. She looked proud, which eased Razz’s soul slightly. For what he was planning, he’d need all the support he could get, because the Court would not be happy. He turned to Slim. “Could you stay for a while yet, brother? I need to do a few things before I can explain.”

Sighing, Slim nodded. Nevertheless, he still looked very unhappy. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Razz nodded gratefully before he signed for Alphys and half of the Elites to follow him. She rode by his side, although still just behind, and studied him closely.

“W-w-what are you pl-planning?” she asked.

“Something very stupid.”

With Alphys by his side, he made his way into one of the servant dinner rooms. In there, the entire crew sat hunched over bowls of soup and big loaves of bread. Probably the fastest food the kitchen staff had been able to prepare. They were all throwing the food into their mouths. Quite disgusting, but Razz supposed it was justifiable. The dungeons didn’t exactly have the best menu. None of them looked up until Alphys loudly cleared her throat. Then, Undyne was the first to turn her head up to stare at them, followed by Fell and Red.

After quickly processing, Fell quickly flew up from the wooden bench before kneeling. Undyne, however, only stared at him, and Red didn’t really seem to know how to react. The rest of the crew had mixed reactions, some following Fell and some Undyne. Alphys glared at them for the disrespect, but didn’t move as Razz shook his head. His boots were quiet against the wooden floor as he walked forward, Alphys closely behind. It wasn’t completely ruled out that someone would attack. Even if that would be nothing but foolish.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at Red. “May I talk to you? Privately?”

Undyne opened her mouth, probably to protest. She was unable to, however, as Red put his hand over her mouth. “o’ course.”

After standing up, he followed Razz out of the room. As they walked through the castle hallways in silence, he gawked at basically everything, and it was quite adorable. These halls were new, only about two hundred years or so, and were therefore covered in marble and paintings in golden frames. Eventually they reached his office, which was closer than his private chambers. He gestured for Razz to take the padded chair as he himself took the armchair. Those were in here for his business meetings with his brother, so technically Red has little place in them. But what the fuck. Due to his poor manners, Red didn’t hesitate to take it.

Razz gestured for Alphys to leave the room, and she saluted in confirmation. Yet before she left, when she walked past Red, she leaned down and grinned sharply. “H-hurt him, and I w-will turn you into a needle pi-pillow. Understood?”

Rolling his eyes, Razz watched in half amusement half annoyance as Red stuttered out an “understood.” She could be so overprotective sometimes. He suspected it was result of the death of his mother. If the highly protected queen could die in an accident, then he could too. At least he assumed that was the explanation. He’d never asked.

The doors closed behind him. They were alone. Something very strange for Razz. He could count on one hand the times he’d been without guards or servants around – not counting the months on Sarynthia. He clenched his fists as he began to shrug off his coat. It was far too warm in here for so much fur. Once it was off, he realized that Red was staring at him, wide-eyed. “WHAT?”

“ya’ve… got somethin’ there,” Red slowly said, pointing at his dress. Looking down, Razz snorted. The rabbit blood was very clear against the white dress; he’d have to throw it out later. This was too much to be washed away without staining.

“IT’S JUST RABBIT BLOOD,” he explained, “FROM THE SACRIFICE CEREMONY THIS MORNING.”

“oh, ‘kay.” The other seemed to relax at that, sagging in the chair. “so… what didya wanna talk ‘bout?”

For a moment, Razz wasn’t sure what to say. This was a bad idea. It was just a bad idea. Then he took a deep breath, leaning back in the armchair. He forced himself to look Red in the eyes.

“Firstly,” he mumbled, “I wanted to apologize for keeping you locked up in the dungeons for a whole week. Especially next to Rosamunde.”

“who?”

“The woman in the cell next to you,” Razz explained, fiddling with his necklace, and Red’s eyes widened. “She’s not exactly sane. The dungeon does that to people after enough time. It’s part of its purpose.”

When Red nodded mutely, he continued, “And… I love you. I- I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want to lose you. So- and this is either the most stupid thing I’ve ever done or the smartest, but there is no other way -“ he stood up, and from the pocked of his coat he picked out a thin golden chain before walking up to Red, holding it up. “-Red, will you marry me?”

Complete silence met him. The other stared at him with wide eyes and open mouth. Swallowing, Razz elaborated, “It’d be a long engagement. With a chance for us both to break it off, and if you do I will make sure no one suffers from it. If you accept, you will have quite a hard time to fit in at the Court, you realize that, but I’m sure that with some time everyone would accept y-“

He was rambling. Razz never rambled. When he realized, he quickly cut himself off. Instead he just waited in silence, staring at Red as he opened and closed his mouth a couple times. His soul pounded in his chest, almost worse than it had during the would-be execution.

“i- i can’t,” Red finally said. It felt like someone stabbed a knife into Razz’s soul, but he nodded, swallowing down the hurt. Before he could say anything, Red continued. “yer- yer th’ empress, razz. th queen o’ beobyra. ‘m- ‘m a whore’s child, a pirate, a criminal. i can’t- it’d ruin yer reputation. ‘n’- i'd be king, razz. a nobody, on th’ throne.”

“Do you love me, Red?” Razz managed to ask, his voice almost not sounding choked at all. At least that was what he told himself. Red stared at him, before slowly nodding.

“i- i do, but-“

“I love you too. And I don’t think I can ever be happy in a political marriage after knowing love. So- if you think you could stand the Court’s dislike until they got used to you, and you think you could be happy here, with me- I don’t care. I don’t care all those things, about you being a criminal or a bastard. I don’t fucking care. So I ask again, will you marry me? Fell, and Undyne, and whoever you want, can of course stay as well. And you will be a great King Consort, I am sure of it. Your main duties will be to our family, except for when I am unable to rule the country, anyway.”

Red nodded. His eyes were teary, but he nodded. “yeah.”

For a short moment, Razz’s soul stopped. Then he broke out into a huge grin, feeling tears well up in his own eyes as well. Gingerly, he took Red’s hand and held it up before fastening the golden chain around his wrist. On it, a love poem his father had written to his mother was inscribed. It was very small, almost impossible to read due to the chain’s thinness, but it was there. Smiling softly, he said, “It was my Mother’s engagement bracelet.”

A broken laugh escaped Red as he suddenly stood up. Carefully, he took Razz’s face between his hands, smiling widely. “I’m honoured, treasure. I am.” He leaned forward. “May I?”

Moments after Razz nodded, he leaned forward and gently pressed their teeth together. Razz gasped, throwing his arms over his fiancé’s shoulders. As he kissed back, he laughed into the kiss. This was definitely both the stupidest and best decision he’d ever made. And he didn’t regret it one bit.

“You did what?!”

“Proposed, brother,” Razz repeated, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. He’d changed clothes by now, from the white, blood-drenched dress to a black and red suit. As Slim began to pace the room, he sighed softly. He’d known the other would react like this. “And Red said yes.”

The other froze, twisting around to stare at him. His hands were flailing, like he didn’t know what to do with them. Razz’s soul ached a little at the worry and betrayal evident on his brother’s face. Taking a step forward, he took Slim’s hand, squeezing it lightly. He attempted to smile. “I love him. And he loves me, too. I know that what they did was horrible – believe me, I know. But I love him. He makes me happy. Please, don’t be angry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to risk you talking me out of it.”

It was like all energy ran out of Slim. He slouched, as he often did when they were alone, and shook his head. “I- I’m not angry. Never with you. I just- I wish you’d told me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” As Razz spoke, he tiptoed to throw his arms over his brother’s shoulders. Hugging him tightly, he mumbled. “But please. Support me in this. The Court isn’t going to like it.”

A quiet chuckle. As he hugged back, Slim mumbled, “That’s the least one can say. But of course. Of course I’ll support you. I want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

Tension ran high at the royal table. The duke had tried to hold a polite conversation, but once Alphys’ father had asked why, by the Mother, he’d taken the pirates back to the castle after pardoning them, he’d had to give up. Which was good for Razz, because he was too nervous to hold polite conversation. Hadn’t he been trained in holding up a façade since he was a babybones, he would’ve been trembling now. As it was, however, he probably only looked politely neutral.

He would have invited Red and Fell to this dinner, to sit nearby Blue and Stretch, but he had realized this was a bad idea. Not only would everyone here be incredibly hostile, but they’d also embarrass themselves and him due to their poor table manners.

On his side, Slim sat stiff. Still he held an idle yet polite conversation with his table neighbour. Still, no matter how much he knew he should, Razz couldn’t find it in him to do the same. It just felt impossible. Especially since everyone demanded to know why he just hadn’t sent the pirates away after pardoning them. He didn’t know how to explain that. Not without revealing everything too early. Slowly chewing his grilled vegetables, he sighed. Most everyone was finished with their food. Taking his knife, he hit it lightly against his wine glass. The twang echoed through the hall. In the back of the room, the violinist entertaining the dinner guests immediately stopped playing, and the murmur of a hundred people speaking at once died out.

When he stood up, everyone moved to follow. As he waved for them not to, everyone stayed in their seats though. Clasping his hands behind his back, Razz spoke: “I have two announcements to make.”

By his side, he could see Slim stiffen slightly. Everyone else, however, looked at him in curiosity. “FIRST OF ALL, THE NEXT COUNTRY WHICH WILL BE ADDED TO THE BEOBYRIAN EMPIRE IS TRIMA. WE SHALL STRIKE FAST AND HARD.” He had sworn on it after getting thrown into the ocean by those Triman sailors, after all. Cheers rose from the crowd until he waved for them to settle down. “THE PLANNING FOR THE FIRST ATTACK WILL BEGIN DIRECTLY AFTER MY CORONATION. SECONDLY, I AM ENGAGED.”

At that, the duke and a hundred other people jerked and stared at him in bewilderment. They certainly had not been expecting that. The problem that was finding Razz a fitting spouse had worried the realm since he was a fifteen and they’d begun looking for someone he could marry once he was an adult. Some of the courtiers looked relieved, some intrigued, and some looked worried. It was understandable. Normally, there would’ve been some warning about him having found a potential partner. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“IT WILL BE A LONGER ENGAGEMENT. MY FIANCÉ IS RED KOIREE OF PEOSANA.” A collective gasp came from the courtiers. Even the servants running around froze in their tracks. Schooling his face into a strict, regal mask, Razz continued, “AND I WILL NOT HEAR ANY COMPLAINTS ABOUT MY CHOICE OF FUTURE HUSBAND. HOWEVER, TO CALM YOU, I SHALL GIVE YOU MY REASONING FOR CHOOSING HIM. FIRST AND FOREMOST, I HAVE COME TO LOVE HIM. BUT AS I WOULD NOT RISK BEOBYRA’S SAFETY FOR LOVE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT HE WILL FIT INTO THE ROLE OF KING CONSORT.”

The Court seemed to remain unconvinced as he listed a few of Red’s redeeming qualities. His loyalty, his intelligence, his kindness. That was to be expected. This was a scandal. Razz would be the first Beobyrian ruler to marry someone of common birth, and this commoner was not even Beobyrian. To see the people would react would be highly interesting. Finally, he ended his miniature speech with saying, “FRANKLY, RED IS THE BEST CANDIDATE FOR KING CONSORT I HAVE YET TO MEET, AND THE MOTHER SEEMS TO APPROVE, SEEING HOW SHE STOPPED THE EXECUTION, SO TO NOT MARRY HIM BECAUSE OF SCANDALS OR TRADITIONS IS ABSOLUTE HOGWASH.”

As he once again sat, the courtiers looked concerned, but no one moved to complain. It was his right as the Mother’s chosen ruler of Beobyra to marry whomever he wished. Razz swept his glass of cool wine immediately. The violins begun to play again. Thank the Mother, that had gone well.

The needle moved slowly over the embroidery, creating a picture of a beautiful sunset. A small smile was on Razz’s face as he continued his little project. For the first time today, he felt calm. Embroidering was such a calming activity. Using a small silver sax, he cut of the pink thread, changing it to blue. He’d been working at this one for over a month before he travelled to Waeldé. Tdo get to finish it was satisfying. Suddenly it knocked on the door of his parlour. With a sigh, he nodded for the maids to let whoever it was in.

In the door, once they’d opened, stood a very concerned-looking Duke af Thyragård. Putting his embroidery aside as the duke bowed, Razz nodded for him to come inside. The duke remained standing until he was offered a stool Sylvie came in with.

“Milord,” Razz greeted levelly, folding his hands in his lap. “You look concerned.”

The duke nodded slowly, leaning forward. “I am, Your Majesty. Your engagement with the pirate- I did not wish to ask before, but I feel as though I need to. I hope I am not too forward, but… It is not because of any… unwanted… consequences?”

Razz blinked. Did he- had he just suggested- Gaping, he stared at the duke in disbelief for a moment before he glared viciously at the other. The duke looked uneasy beneath his gaze, clenching his hands slightly.

“Are you suggesting that I proposed because I am carrying a bastard, milord? That my fiancé did something as terrible as forcing me into bed with him?” he asked coldly. The duke didn’t move, nor speak. “Or, perhaps you are suggesting that I willingly went against the Mother Herself and slept with someone outside of wedlock?”

At that, the duke flinched and quickly shook both head and hands. “No, no, of course not, Your Majesty. I would never-“

“Good,” Razz interrupted sharply. “Then we shall not speak of this anymore. I am marrying Red, and I will not accept any such accusations against neither mine nor his name. Understood?”

The duke sighed, bowing his head. “Understood, Your Majesty. I apologize.”

Razz only nodded before he took up his embroidery again, dismissing the noble.

Just like that, the world had warmed. Fell and Red had both been given their own personal chambers, complete with their own bedchambers, bathrooms, offices and even a small parlour. Being the Queen’s fiancé and future brother-in-law had its advantages. Even if it also caused Red to get quite a few unhappy and frankly degrading gazes whenever he was in public areas of the castle and not in Razz’s company. It was uncomfortable, even a little scary, but he was getting used to it. Fell, on the other hand, had already begun training to join the Castle Guard. Perhaps even the Elite.

And when he’d woken up this morning, it had been to the sound of a huge pile of snow falling from the castle roof. It had hit the windowsill, and since his bed was by one of the big windows, he’d woken right up. When looking out, he was met with a sky painted in pink and yellow, and a sun which shone warmly even through the glass.

The day before it had been the usual chill of northern winters, and today the world felt almost warm. Immediately, Razz had cancelled his afternoon meetings. Said he’d take a few hours off for once. Which was why he, Razz, Fell, Undyne, Slim, Blue, Stretch and Captain Alphys were all sitting around a table in the middle of a field outside the city, dressed in thick fur coats. Taking up a cinnamon baked apple, Red leaned back in his chair and smiled. They were out of the castle, away from all the courtiers and the constant buzz of city life. And the constant, intense classes Razz had put them in. Etiquette, reading and writing, history, politics, horse riding- the list was endless. It was exhausting, to say the least. Yet he happily did it, for many reasons. Firstly, for Razz’s sake of course, and secondly, because Fell would certainly kill him if he passed up the chance for an education.

As he bit down into the apple, the taste was heavenly. He hadn’t had cinnamon in so long. In Peosana it was a common spice, but in these parts of Natéa it was so expensive he’d almost choked when finding out. Generally, almost all spices around here were so expensive. He missed the spicy foods of home. At his left, Razz smiled when he almost moaned. And to his right, Fell was carefully eating a dumpling. He was looking a little concerned.

“YOUR MAJESTY, WHERE ARE THE CHILDREN?” he asked suddenly, putting down his dumpling on his plate. Razz turned his way, tilting his head in confusion. Fell clarified, “OUR CABIN KIDS. THERE WEREN’T IN THE DUNGEON, NOR AT THE EXECUTION. THEIR FAMILIES ARE WORRIED, AND SO AM I.”

After a second, Razz let out an “oohh”- sound, and Red blinked. How the hell had he forgotten about the kids? Leo and Fuku and Aashi and Daman. Now anxious, he turned to look at Razz has they waited for him to answer. Finally, Razz said: “I APOLOGIZE, I COMPLETELY FORGOT. THEY’RE AT THE INSITUTION FOR CRIMINAL CHILDREN.”

Red’s soul skipped a beat at the reply. An institution? Fuck no. From everything he’d heard those were the places you’d want to avoid at any cost, were you poor or ‘a difficult child’. Their kids were both. The picnic had gone completely silent. The only noises were the birdsong in the background and the constant noise of falling snow. Just as he exchanged a horrified gaze with his brother, Prince Slim cleared his throat slightly.

“Why those faces?” he asked dryly. Apparently, their horror had been visible. “One’d think you’d be grateful we do not kill children but instead give them a chance to grow up to be proper citizens.”

Unlike you went unsaid. But obviously very unwillingly. It was understandable, kind of, but the prince was the coldest in the entire Beobyrian court. At least in private. Before the Court, he supported his brother, luckily. Red supposed he couldn’t blame him, he’d too hate whomever had kidnapped his brother. Still, it made it hard for Red to like him.

“we are, yer highness,” he replied as politely as he could. The words still came out shorter than they should have. Then he turned to Razz, grabbing his fiancé’s hand. He squeezed lightly. “get ‘em out o’ there, treasure. please. as quick as possible.”

Blinking in confusion, Razz nodded. With a hand gesture, he called one of the Elites on duty to them. The soldier saluted. The Elite’s own salute, Red had learnt since he now had his own bodyguards from the unit. A closed fist first over the forehead, then over the soul. Razz saluted back, even while he still was sitting. “RIDE TO THE INSITUTE AND INFORM THEM THAT THE CHILDREN OF SARYNTHIA ARE TO BE REUNITED WITH THEIR FAMILIES IMMEDIATELY.”

The soldier saluted again before mounting his horse and immediately making his way back to Thyragård. Sighing in relief, he smiled gratefully at Razz. The other still seemed befuddled over their worry, but didn’t say anything about it. They all sank back into comfortable conversation, with Undyne and Alphys loudly trying to talk over each other, comparing how brave and skilled they were. Red would pay to see them fight.

At his side, Razz had now taken up conversation with Blue about castle-life. Stretch was as quiet as always. At the brothel, Red hadn’t met him more than a few times, but he’d always seemed very tense and very protective of Blue. This was the first time he’d seen him smile. Taking another sip of the warm elderberry juice, he watched them quietly. It was good to see Blue safe. He’d never allowed himself to care much for the other, knowing that prostitution was a dangerous job. Unwilling to get hurt by Blue falling ill or dying. But now he could admit to himself it’d only half-worked.

When he and Fell had arrived before the picnic, Fell had certainly been shocked to see the brothers here. Red had forgotten to tell him about them, and he had apparently not noticed during the not-execution. Shocked enough to exclaim, “What does the whore do here?”

Understandably, Blue had been a little shaken by that, but at least it had given them the whole story of what the hell he was doing here. And the servants had gotten strict orders not to tell anyone what they’d heard. Especially about Blue’s former occupation. Red had wondered about how this happened. His smile softened. Hearing what had happened only made him love Razz more. It was incredible, how the Queen of Beobyra would do such a thing for a lowlife such as a whore.

“OH, BLUE, STRETCH?” Razz suddenly asked, and Red tilted his head to hear better. “HAVE YOU TWO DECIDED WHAT TO DO WITH YOUR LIVES?”

After exchanging a gaze with his brother, Blue nodded. He smiled as he spoke, “Yes. We want to stay at the castle. But we – or at least I – would really like something to do. Being idle is uncomfortable. I’ve never been that before.”

“I SEE.” Razz sounded satisfied as he smutted on his cup of steaming hot juice. Since he still hadn’t let go off it, Red ran his fingers over the other’s hand. Deities, he was beautiful. “YOU DID SAY YOU WANTED TO BE A TAILOR, DID YOU NOT?” Blue nodded. Red hummed in surprise – that was news to him. “HOW ABOUT I GET YOU AN APPRENTICESHIP WITH ONE OF THE ROYAL TAILORS OR ACCESSORY-MAKERS?”

It was almost comedic how Blue’s eyes widened. Stars formed in them as he jumped where he saw sitting. Juice spilled over the sides of his goblet, down on his hands, but he didn’t seem to notice as he grinned widely. Next to him, Stretch smiled again.

“Really?” he gasped. “Thank you, Razz! I’d love to!”

Watching the interaction with a warm soul, Red turned to look at Razz instead of the excited Blue – it had taken some while to get used to calling him Blue instead of Blueberry, since that’s what he’d been calling him for three years by now, but he had now. His fiancé was chuckling as he watched Blue. Red tapped his shoulder to make him look his face. As he did, he gently took Razz’s face between his hands. The other’s purple eyes were truly gorgeous as he gazed at him like this.

“’m proud o’ ya,” he whispered, and Razz smile grew. Razz carefully freed himself from Red’s hands, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. In the background, the thump of snow falling was heard again. When he accidentally glanced that way, he was met with the sight of Undyne fake-‘awww’-ing. He growled at her.

“Sorry,” muttered the prince, and Red turned in confusion, only to see Razz glaring at his brother. Huh. Wonder what he’d done now. Suddenly, Blue let out a hesitant noise. Most of them looked over at him, as he pointed at the sky. Wow. Red’s eyes widened. It’d be clear blue only an hour ago, but now it was incredibly grey. Blinking, he realized the world was dark. Almost like night, even if the snow made it slightly better.

“Snowstorm?” Blue asked anxiously. He was Aellwynian, he knew exactly how deadly it could be to get caught in one. But Alphys shook her head. She gestured toward the melting snow.

“No,” she said, just as a waterdrop hit Red’s nose. He gaped, but she was smiling widely. “R-rain. The fi-first sp-spring rain.” Pausing, she grabbed her goblet to down the juice. “P-Perhaps we should h-h-head home.”

As the servants quickly packed their things, they all mounted their horses. Red’s was a pliant horse who’d retired before being given to him, thankfully. If someone had put him on a horse like Razz’s Marmalade he’d be dead now. Demantha, he wasn’t made for horses. He was a sailor, not a rider. Although he couldn’t deny that there was a certain pleasure in managing to get the horse to do what he wished. Fell had too some difficulties with it, but as with everything else he was very determined to learn. Undyne already knew how to ride, from before she ran away from her parents.

Carefully, he told the horse to go forward, following Razz and Slim, who rode first. Too fast, the rain turned from just the occasional drop to an even rain, and Red shivered as he pulled his hood over his head. While he still had his own leather coat, he was very grateful Razz had given them proper clothing for Beobyra’s winters. Or spring, he supposed. And to be honest, it seemed like he wouldn’t get many occasions to wear the coat again. But it’d still stay in his ownership, having been the first thing he bought with his pirate money.

Just as they reached the city gates, the sky rumbled above them. A flash of lightening lit up the world. Within seconds, the rain is pouring down and the world is so dark Red could hardly see his grey horse’s head. He thought he could hear Razz – or is it Prince Slim, or Captain Alphys? – shout something, probably ‘gallop’, seeing how their horses then began to run. Despite how his soul pounded, he urged his own horse to run. As the rain hit his face, he clung to the horse’s mane, very much not thinking about how slippery the stone streets must be beneath its hooves.

He gasped in relief as they entered the Court yard and stable hands came rushing out to take the horses. He also felt a tiny bit guilty for forcing them out in this hellish rain. The group ran inside, and Razz laughed out loud as they finally reached the dry, warm castle.

“MOTHER, WH-WHAT A R-RAIN,” he stuttered out between shattering teeth, grinning loudly. “HAVEN’T SEEN T-THAT MUCH SI-SINCE… LAST S-S-SUMMER, HONESTLY. IT R-RAINS A LOT HERE.”

Before anyone else had a chance to speak, he continued, “WELL, WE BE-BETTER G-G-GET WARM. ALPHYS, WHEN Y-YOU’VE BATHED, COME T-TO MY PARLOUR. AND R-R-RED, CAN YOU C-COME AN HOUR B-BEFORE S-SUPPER? I W-WANT TO SHOW Y-YOU SOMETHING.”

“o’- o’ c-c-course,” he replied, shivering violently. Salina, a warm bath did sound great right now, even if it couldn’t be healthy to bathe as much as the Beobyrians wanted him to do.

When Red came to Razz’s new chambers, the door to his parlour was already open. His fiancé and Captain Alphys were still in there, discussing something. Now warm again and dressed in a shirt with puffy arms, he walked in, raising a hand in greeting. Razz smiled at him, and Captain Alphys gave him a sharp grin. The room fell quiet, the sound of his boot heels clicking against the stone floor the marble floor the only sound. Razz had just moved to the Regent’s Chambers, from the rooms he’d occupied since childhood. Apparently, he was very happy over this, said it made his rulership feel more real. Red, on the other hand, was just amazed over how much space Razz had now. His old chambers hadn’t been small at all, but here he had bedchamber, private parlour, official parlour, a small library, a new office, and even more. It was so grand. Why did anyone need so much space on their own?

Razz gestured for him to sit down in the couch opposite of him. Once he did, Captain Alphys grinned widely at him and leaned forward. “G-g-good evening, Red. I was j-just te-telling Razz here about an adulterer th-th-the Castle Guard ca-caught this morning.”

Her voice was oddly threatening, and Red fought the urge to lean backwards where he was sitting. At her side, Razz rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. “oh?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, smile going even sharper. “Th-they were the spouse of one of the r-r-royal hatters and cheated wi-with a maid. The execution is t-t-tomorrow, if you w-want to come and w-watch.”

Red gaped, even as his body felt cold again beneath her gaze. Of course he wasn’t going to cheat on Razz, if that was what she meant, but what the fuck. The punishment for adultery was death? What the hell? She stared at him, almost like she was staring into his soul, until Razz slapped her arm. “STOP SCARING MY FIANCÉ, ALPH.”

The captain broke the eye contact, but her aura was still very threatening. Forcing himself to speak, Red replied, “i think i’ll skip ‘t, cap’n. don’ know if i’ll ever go to an execution again.”

Just like that, Captain Alphys stopped seeming threatening. Instead she laughed out loud, nodded, and stood up. After taking farewell, she left him and Razz alone. Staring at Razz, he asked about the punishment, just to make sure he hadn’t just been messed with.

Carelessly, Razz replied, “YES, THAT IS TRUE. ALTHOUGH THE PUNISHMENT WOULD GET WORSE IF IT WAS SOMEONE OF HIGHER STATUS WHO’D BEEN CHEATED ON. ANYWAY, RED, WILL YOU COME WITH ME?”

Speechless, Red nodded. Razz stood up, making his way to the back of the parlour where a door was. Servants held it open, and Red nodded to them in thanks as he passed them. The next room was even grander than the private parlour. The walls were painted white, but covered in gold-patterns, the floor was of polished light wood. Behind a low, golden fence, an enormous bed stood. It was big enough to fit at least five people. Unable to help himself, Red gaped again. The ceiling was painted, not with abstract motives but with people and animals and what must be their goddess. A gigantic chandelier hung in the roof.

They weren’t alone. Guards stood along the walls, as always. Apparently they wouldn’t be allowed to be alone until their wedding night. Neither was he allowed to touch Razz too much, or to kiss too long, or to trace the bone of his sometimes-bare shoulders with his finger. So many rules. So many restrictions. It was worth it.

Razz gestured for him to sit down in a small couch by the wall. It was beige, with great embroidered flowers in gold and bronze. Just like everything in the room, it was beautiful. Meanwhile, Razz picked out something from the small cabinet beneath his bedtable. A grey box. Red recognized it, although he could not remember from where.

As Razz sat down next to him, he placed the box gently in his lap. It was simple, but quite lovely. Pewter, probably. When Razz smiled at him, his soul warmed while skipping a beat at the same time. The expression was so full of trust. Placing a hand on the box, Razz inhaled slowly.

“This,” he said quietly, moving his fingers over the lid, “is Valkyria’s music box. It’s been in my family for a thousand years, and was made by Queen Thyra the Founder herself. Normally, we don’t permit anyone outside of our family to see it, so this is very special, Red. But I wanted to show both you and my brother that I trust you.”

“There is a legend, which is one of the reason we keep it secret, which says that as long as it is in our ownership, the Valkyrias will stay at Beobyra’s throne, no matter what happens. If we lose it, we will lose the throne as well. Perhaps Queen Thyra somehow lives in it, and protects our crown. The second reason-“ Razz opened the music box, and a sweet melody filled the room. It sounded like a lullaby, calm, sweet, and lovely. Red sat silent, listening to his fiancé and to the beautiful tunes. “-is this. This song is as old as Beobyra. Probably older. It’s a song which has followed my ancestors through life, from their cradles until their deaths on the battlefields. We sing it as our children’s first lullaby, and we sing it as we honour our dead. It’s a song which no one but my family remember anymore. We call it the Song of Beobyra, but also the Song of Valkyria.”

“Would the music box and its song disappear in history, then so would also we. A thousand years of Valkyrias would be lost, and all future generations.” He looked at Red, fully serious. The expression on Razz’s face was more honest than any expression he had ever seen before. “So you must promise me that you won’t tell anyone. Not even your brother.”

Without saying a word, Red moved his hand to put on Razz’s. He didn’t squeeze, just let it rest there. Solemnly, he nodded. “i promise. i swear on th’ pravannala.”

It was the highest promise a Peosani could make, to swear on their ancestors. Would such an oath be broken, the oath-breaker would lose all protection from their family, both dead and living. After an eternal moment, Razz exhaled loudly. With a smile, he nodded too. After carefully closing the music box, he took Red’s hand between his, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“Thank you.”

The music playing was solemn, celebratory. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling again, Razz stared straight forward as he prepared himself to enter the castle temple. For the last time, he straightened out his huge skirt, and the maid who was here to help him made sure the purple mantle which hung from his shoulders and rested on the floor meters behind him lied as it should. Then, the doors opened.

Holding his head high, he walked into the main hall. The people gathered immediately rose. The stone walls and pillars were decorated in ribbons and spring’s earliest flowers, but Razz saw very little of it. His focus was all on the front of the hall. When he passed, the guests bowed and curtsied deeply, until he had reached the altar. In front of him, dressed in white robes almost as magnificent as his dress, the High Priestess stood. In difference to the others, she did not kneel. Instead she only dipped her head in respect. The shuffle of five hundred people sitting down echoed through the table. When he stopped, facing her, the orchestra stopped playing. The temple was completely silent.

She then stepped aside, letting him face iron statue of the Mother Goddess behind her. Razz knelt. Bowing his head to Her, he declared, “BEFORE YOU, MOTHER, I SWEAR TO BE AN OBEDIENT AND LOYAL SERVANT, I SWEAR TO LIVE AS YOU HAVE DECIDED, AND I SWEAR TO RULE AS YOU SEE FIT.”

“Then rise,” the High Priestess said, her voice clear and powerful. It was loud between the stonewalls, but somehow did not echo. Swiftly, he did as told, and found himself facing her again. His soul skipped a beat, but he did not move a muscle. With a solemn expression on his face, he waited for her to continue. “Razz Thyra Jarle Frej, you are Beobyra’s twenty-fourth regent. We are your people. We are your realm. And you are chosen by the Mother Goddess to rule us. May you do so with strength and justice.”

With a hand gesture, she called forward a priestess. The priestess curtsied deeply for Razz as she held out a silk pillow, on which the Crown rested. Despite wishing to look, Razz kept his gaze directed forward. Then she took the crown, and he turned around to face the audience. The temple was filled with people. Nobility, commoners, foreign dignitaries. Among others, the Sanath of Peosana was here, as a first attempt at healing their relationship.

But the most important people sat in the front row. Slim and Red. It was hard not to smile as he saw them, but Razz managed. They were both dressed in formal suits, and Red was incredibly handsome. Then the High Priestess walked up behind him, and he could sense how she held up the pale gold crown above his head. It had been forged specifically for him, as was tradition, with red and purple jewels. His soul beat slowly as she began to speak.

“I hereby crown you, Razz of the Valkyria dynasty, Fourth of your name, to the supreme ruler of Beobyra and the Beobyrian Empire.” With those words, the crown was placed on his head. He straightened his back even more, gazing out over his people. Razz looked straight at his brother and fiancé as the High Priestess spoke those last words. Slim smiled joyously as he rose, before bowing his head as he knelt. Red gave him a warm smile, making Razz’s soul flutter, before doing the same, lowering himself to the floor, bowing his head deeply.

“Bow before your Queen and Empress.”

Leaning toward the balcony fence, Red breathed in the cold air. Above them, the stars shone brightly. Zalû was only crescent, and they were beautiful. He had unbuttoned the fancy coat he wore, allowed the chill to creep over his bones. By his side stood Fell, who too was watching the stars. In the background, the orchestra was still playing. The coronation ball had been going on for hours, and he’d needed a pause. The entire evening had been spent being introduced to different dignitaries and nobles as the Queen’s fiancé and dancing and talking, and he was exhausted. He’d even met His Holy Majesty the Sanath. Who had been oddly amused over his privateers ending up here. Red chuckled.

“What?” Fell asked softly, smiling contently. He truly loved court life. Red had always said that he would’ve fit better at a court than on a pirate ship. Red grinned at him before glancing down on the engagement bracelet around his wrist. It gleamed in the light of the torches on the wall.

“nothin’, i just-“ He chuckled again. “-eight months ago we were robbin’ ships, ‘n’ now… ‘m gettin’ married, bro. we’re at th’ beobyrian court. who would’ve believed?”

“True,” Fell agreed, staring up at the stars again. His voice was soft, happy. “The deities play odd games. And we need to send after Uncle Arav and cousin Nitya.”

Nodding absentmindedly, Red scratched his head. They were both shivering lightly, but he didn’t wish to go back in yet. Suddenly a quiet laugh came from behind. When they looked back, Razz stood there. Smiling at them, he walked up to the fence as well. Far beneath them, the Beast’s Bay rested, calm so close to the coast. The stars reflected in it, so there were double skies. Fell chuckled.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, nodding to Razz. “Your Majesty.”

As he began to leave, Razz called out, “You can call me ‘Razz’, you know. We’re going to be family, after all.”

Without looking back, Fell nodded. But Red knew he was happy to hear that. His twin brother, always so formal. As he turned to his fiancé, Red smiled softly. The other was still dressed in his coronation dress, although the mantle had been removed, and he shone. His eyes were bright and his smile filled with joy. It made Red happy.

“shouldn’t ya be inside with yer guests?” he whispered, and Razz nodded, but grinned.

“I should. But even queens and empresses need a pause sometimes.”

Only nodding, Red placed a hand over Razz’s, and Razz intertwined their fingers. For a long while, they just stood there in the silence. Music still came from inside, and the waves of his beloved sea bobbed beneath the mountain the castle lied on. It was nothing special, and it was everything, and Red didn’t think he’d ever been this happy.

“I love you,” Razz mumbled, leaning into his side. Careful not to disturb the dress, Red embraced him with one arm as they kept watching the stars. He smiled.

“i love ya too.”

13 notes · View notes

behind-the-gloves · 5 years

Note

Hi I love your writing. I would really appreciate it if you could write more stories from Bester’s pov. Also the B5 RPG books give some really cool information about the Corp, including a wonderful transcript of a lecture given to students by Bester. Pls don’t stop writing I’ve been following you for over a year now and I’m very attached

Thanks for writing in! :-) I’m glad you love my work!

A bit of background to explain the slowdown: Before I started posting Behind the Gloves last year, I spent five years researching, writing, editing and rewriting much of the content that’s up there now. (So yes, it’s been almost seven years now!)

Most of the lengthier chapters were thus pre-written, and I wasn’t writing it “as I go.” I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish the entire project in advance, but there came a point where I decided to post what I had.

And then I’d posted all of it, and some shorter new material… and so now there’s a gap while I write more (and go through the same processes as before, to keep it the same quality).

And then I got pneumonia. >>_

But I’m still around and so is the project. ^_^ I’ve just commissioned some artists, and seamstress to make a Psi Cop (Vermont) Teddy Bear. (It’s almost done… pics soon!)

Re: the RPG, I’ve seen parts of it, and it’s very canon divergent/AU. I feel I have enough of a challenge cut out for me to respond to everything that is actually canon (and certified as such by JMS) without also taking on material which isn’t, but if there’s something specific in there that you’d like me to look at, feel free to email me, and I’ll look it over. (No promises, though, as to whether I can respond, as my primary focus is on material that is certified as canon, and I’m nowhere close to done with that much. I haven’t even finished reading some 100% or 90% canon books.)

Re: material from Bester’s POV, I agree - it’s just a matter of what and how. There are key scenes from canon from his POV I want to revisit, but only after I’ve first filled in the missing background. There are also key pieces from his POV that were omitted, that I want to fill in. It’s a matter of setting the stage.

The “big picture” story arc for the next fifty years is of Johnston’s takeover of the Corps, how he terrorized telepaths internally, and then eventually collaborated with other top officials in EarthGov to sell telepaths to the Shadows. Bester’s personal plot arc in this is his vow - and careful plot - to get revenge on Johnston, first for the death of Sandoval Bey, and then later, for everything else Johnston did to sell out the Corps, telepaths, and all of humanity. This entire central story, minus fragments about Bey and the final scene wherein Bester assassinates Johnston, is omitted from canon. (Bester shows up and says, “I’ve been carefully plotting this for twenty years!”)

I aim to fix that. But it doesn’t begin from Bester’s point of view, since when the story begins, he knows very little (and most of what does involve him is already in there).

I aim to recentralize other key, omitted stories as well, such as the central role that the Corps as a whole, and Bester personally, played in defeating the Shadows. It’s mentioned in passing in a few places in canon, but intentionally sidelined - both in canon, and in the news reports and history books of that world - and I’m putting the story back.

#behind the gloves #behindthegloves #b5 #babylon 5 #babylon five #psi corps #psicorps #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #al bester #shadow war #ask blog #askblog

0 notes

redrosesinc · 9 years

Text

Tatort Stuttgart teacher au for anon

I’m like really really sorry

Kapitel 1: In dem Sebastian Bootz loszieht, um Maja Bootz' Klassenlehrer das Fürchten zu lehren

Es regnet schon den ganzen Tag.

Doch Sebastian hat Maja versprochen, dass er mit ihrem Klassenlehrer reden wird, und das Versprechen kann er nicht so einfach brechen. Also macht er sich auf den Weg zur Schule, obwohl Julia das Auto hat und er keinen einzigen Regenschirm finden kann.

Als er ankommt, ist seine Hose etwas feucht, seine Jacke voll mit Tropfen und sein Haar klatschnass, aber er bringt sich trotzdem dazu, im Sekretariat nach Herrn Lannert zu fragen, anstatt einfach wieder nach Hause zu laufen und zu hoffen, dass er sich nicht erkältet.

Die Sekretärin scheint eher unbeeindruckt von seinem Zustand, und erklärt, dass Herr Lannert gerade eine Freistunde habe, und deswegen in Raum 407 sitzt. Sebastian bedankt sich, rutscht vor dem Sekretariat erst einmal auf den nassen Fliesen aus und macht sich dann leise fluchend (und die amüsierten Blicke einer Gruppe Fünftklässler ignorierend) auf den Weg in den vierten Stock.

Raum 407 ist am Ende des Flurs, und bevor Sebastian klopft, atmet er tief durch und versucht, seine Haare doch noch ganz passabel aussehen zu lassen.

"Herein", sagt eine Stimme, die, wie Sebastian sieht, als er das kleine Zimmer betritt, einem Mann gehört, der an einem Schreibtisch sitzt und ihn neugierig anblickt.

"Herr Lannert?", fragt er, nur um sicher zu sein, und der Mann nickt.

"Sie müssen Majas Vater sein", sagt er dann. "Setzen sie sich."

Sebastian setzt sich wie aufgefordert auf einen der Stühle vor dem Schreibtisch, an dem Herr Lannert einige Sekunden lang unbeirrt weiterschreibt, nur, um dann aufzublicken und zu grinsen. "Kommafehler", sagt er entschuldigend, und Sebastian nickt, als würde er genau verstehen, was er meint.

"Also, ich nehme an, dass sie hier sind, um mit mir über Majas Verhalten im Unterricht zu sprechen", sagt Herr Lannert dann.

"Äh. Ja", antwortet Sebastian, eine Sekunde lang verwirrt, weil die Augen, die ihn plötzlich ansehen, wirklich sehr blau sind. Er räuspert sich. "Also, was macht Maja denn genau im Unterricht? Mir erzählt sie's ja nicht."

Herr Lannert seufzt. "Es ist nicht so, als würde sie den Unterricht stören. Aber sie hört nicht zu. Schaut entweder aus dem Fenster oder malt in ihr Heft. Ich mache mir da irgendwie schon Gedanken. Ist bei ihnen zu Hause alles in Ordnung?"

Herr Lannert blickt ihn fragend an, und Sebastian spürt, wie sich ihm die Kehle zuschnürt und tausend Sorgen in ihm aufsteigen.

Dass Julia nie zu Hause ist. Dass sie, wenn sie doch mal da ist, andauernd streiten. Dass sie, als sie das letzte Mal zu Hause war, gesagt hat, dass sie die Scheidung will. Dass er nicht weiß, wie ernst sie es meint, aber dass er irgendwie schon lange damit gerechnet hat, und dass es weniger weh tut, als er gedacht hatte. Dass Maja darunter zu leiden scheint. Dass Henri nur noch an seinem Handy rumspielt. Dass er, Sebastian, bis jetzt zu Hause gearbeitet hat, und sich das wohl bald ändern wird.

Er schüttelt den Kopf, will sagen, dass es keine Probleme gibt, denn schließlich ist alles nicht so wirklich ernst, aber überlegt es sich dann doch anders. "Meine Frau möchte sich scheiden lassen", gibt er zögerlich zu. "Wahrscheinlich geht es Maja deswegen nicht so gut?"

Herr Lannert sieht ihn an, aber es liegt kein Urteil in seinem Blick, nur Wärme. "Das könnte ein Grund sein.", sagt er.

Dann bemerkt er die Uhr und stöhnt leise. "Mist. Ich hab Unterricht."

Er steht auf, um seine Sachen zusammenzupacken (vor allem Hefte, wie Sebastian feststellt), und fügt dann hinzu: "Aber Sie sollten mit Ihrer Tochter darüber reden."

Sebastian nickt.

"Und Sie könnten mich danach anrufen", sagt Herr Lannert und beginnt, in den Taschen seines Mantels herumzukramen.

"Ich würde Ihnen ja meine Nummer auf die Hand schreiben, doch irgendwie bezweifle ich, dass sie das Wetter überleben würde", verkündet er fröhlich und schreibt sie schließlich stattdessen auf die Rückseite eines Kassenzettels.

"Machen Sie's gut!", sagt er noch, bevor er loszieht, und Sebastian bleibt allein in Raum 407 zurück.

Kapitel 2: In dem Sebastian Bootz ein unangenehmes Gespräch führen darf

Es ist schwerer als erwartet, einen guten Moment zu finden, um mit Maja zu reden, schließlich ist sie oft in ihrem Zimmer, und Sebastian hat gelesen, dass für Teenager ihre Zimmer so etwas wie ihr Königreich sind, und sie sich deswegen sofort angegriffen fühlen, wenn man dort eindringt, um etwas mit ihnen zu besprechen, und er will es auch nicht vor Julia tun, und beim Essen unangenehme Dinge zu bereden ist immer eine risikoreiche Angelegenheit, die ganz gerne mal eskalierte.

So kommt es, dass er sich gezwungen fühlt, Maja nach dem Abendessen in sein Arbeitszimmer zu bestellen, und davon ist seine Tochter natürlich auch nicht sonderlich begeistert.

"Und?", fragt sie, als sie bei ihm auf dem Sofa sitzt und ungeduldig mit dem Bein wippt.

Sebastian setzt sich neben sie und versucht, es nicht merkwürdig zu finden, dass sie ihn nicht ansieht, wenn sie sich unterhalten.

"Ich hab heute mit deinem Klassenlehrer gesprochen", fängt er also an, und Maja scheint nicht sonderlich beeindruckt.

"Er sagt, ich soll mal mit dir darüber sprechen, was du so im Unterricht machst."

Maja lacht leise auf. "Ach echt? Was mach ich denn so im Unterricht?"

Sebastian zuckt mit den Schultern. "Also, aus dem Fenster schauen und zeichnen, sagt er. Und, dass er sich Sorgen macht."

Maja prustet leise. "Oh Mann, dass ist so typisch für den Lannert. Was sagt er sonst noch so?"

Sebastian ist eine Sekunde lang erschrocken darüber, wie wenig seine Tochter ihre Lehrer respektiert, doch dann reißt er sich zusammen. "Er meint, wir sollen mal darüber reden, wieso das so ist. Maja..."

Sie schaut immer noch weg.

"Ist es, weil Mama die Scheidung will, oder was?"

Jetzt dreht sie sich doch zu ihm um.

"Nee. Also, ich mein, natürlich ist das scheiße, wenn sich meine Eltern trennen, aber ganz ehrlich, ich hab auch eigene Probleme."

"Und welche?", fragt Sebastian hoffnungsvoll, doch Maja verlässt ohne ein weiteres Wort den Raum.

Sebastian reibt sich die Augen und blickt auf die Uhr. Kurz nach zehn. Da kann man nicht mehr bei Leuten anrufen, denkt er, egal, wie sehr man es will. Und irgendwie will er es schon. Herr Lannert scheint nett zu sein. Freundlich, hilfsbereit. Und er hat ein hübsches Lächeln. Nur zur Sicherheit tastet Sebastian noch einmal nach der Telefonnummer in seiner Hosentasche.

Kapitel 3: In dem Sebastian Bootz ein angenehmes Gespräch führen darf

Es regnet immer noch, oder schon wieder, als Sebastian am nächsten Tag beschließt, Herrn Lannert anzurufen.

Tolles Juliwetter, denkt er. Aber irgendwie beruhigt ihn der Gedanke, dass noch nicht einmal die Natur genau an ihre eigenen Vorgaben hält.

Der Nachmittagsunterricht geht nie länger als 16.15 Uhr, das weiß er von Maja, und jetzt ist es 17.00 Uhr. Das kommt hin, denkt Sebastian, und ist plötzlich irgendwie nervös.

Es tutet drei Mal, bevor sich jemand meldet.

"Lannert?".

Professionell, ernsthaft, herausfordernd.

"Äh. Hier ist Sebastian Bootz. Der Vater von Maja...?"

Er hat sich noch gar nicht gefragt, ob Herr Lannert sich überhaupt an ihn erinnert, doch jetzt ist die Frage plötzlich da. Vielleicht gibt Herr Lannert ja allen Eltern seine Telefonnummer, früher oder später, und er hat es einfach nicht mitbekommen. Schließlich hat er ja bis jetzt immer vermieden, bei Elternabenden zu erscheinen.

"Sie haben sich Zeit gelassen", sagt Herr Lannert, aber er klingt fröhlich, und Sebastian ist so erleichtert, dass er sich erst einmal hinsetzen und nach einem Stift und einem Blatt Papier greifen muss. Kritzeln hilft beim Entspannen.

"Äh... ja. Ich habe mit Maja geredet", sagt er sehr geistesgegenwärtig, und spricht schnell weiter. "Sie war beleidigt, dass ich angenommen habe, dass sie so wenig eigene Probleme hat, dass sie sich mit unseren beschäftigen muss, also war's das mit der Scheidung wohl nicht."

Am anderen Ende der Leitung lacht Herr Lannert leise. "So welche Argumentationen bringt sie auch ganz gerne mal in ihren Aufsätzen. Und sie sind ja im Prinzip auch nichts Schlechtes, aber leider sind wir jetzt genau so weit wie vorher", stellt er fest.

Sie schweigen sich einige Sekunden an, dann fragt Sebastian: "Meinen Sie, ich soll sie einfach fragen, was ihre Probleme sind?"

"Das können Sie auf jeden Fall tun, ob sie es Ihnen auch sagen wird, ist ne andere Frage", sagt Herr Lannert.

Sebastian seufzt.

"Haben Sie eigentlich auch Kinder?", fragt er.

Herr Lannert zögert einen Moment, dann antwortet er: "Nein. Leider." Es raschelt, und dann fährt er fort: "Dafür habe ich jede Menge Klassenarbeiten zu korrigieren."

Sebastian zuckt zusammen. "Oh", sagt er.

"Aber es würde mich sehr freuen, wenn Sie nochmal anrufen würden, wenn sie mit Maja gesprochen haben. Oder einfach heute Abend", fügt Herr Lannert hinzu, und Sebastian muss grinsen.

"Wird gemacht", sagt er.

Er kann Herrn Lannerts Lächeln fast spüren. "Na dann, bis später", sagt er.

"Tschüss".

Dann bricht die Verbindung ab.

Sebastian blickt auf den Zettel, den er während des Gesprächs vollgekritzelt hat. Viele kleine Häuser und eine aufgehende Sonne. Er muss wieder grinsen.

Kapitel 4: In dem Sebastian Bootz mehrere Gespräche führt und plötzlich etwas tun will, gegen das er sich zuvor gesträubt hat

Als es Zeit zum Abendessen ist, hat sich Henri schon wieder zu einem Freund verzogen, und da Julia immer noch nicht da ist, beschließt Sebastian, Maja einfach beim Essen auf ihre Probleme anzusprechen.

Beiläufig, als sei es keine große Sache. Irgendwann mitten im Gespräch, wenn Maja es nicht vermutet, und dann redet sie einfach weiter, und er findet endlich heraus, wie er ihr helfen kann, so hat Sebastian sich das gedacht, doch Maja schweigt schon die ganze Zeit, und irgendwie können sie schlecht über's Wetter sprechen, denn das ist immer noch so unglaublich schlecht, schon seit einer Woche, und Sebastian hat immer noch keinen Regenschirm auftreiben können.

"Sag mal, Maja", beginnt er schließlich, und stöhnt innerlich, denn als Anfang war das wirklich nicht gut.

Maja macht nur einen kleinen Hm-Laut und kaut weiter auf ihrem Brötchen herum.

"Also, du sagst doch, dass du eigene Probleme hast", fährt Sebastian fort.

Maja scheint irgendwie in ihrem Brötchen zu versinken.

"Weißt du, wenn du darüber reden willst, also ich kann dir zuhören. Und dir helfen. Aber nur, wenn du mir davon erzählst", sagt Sebastian, und blickt Maja erwartungsvoll an, doch sie schaut weg und schweigt nur noch.

"Maja", beginnt Sebastian wieder.

"Ja, klar", sagt Maja. "Weil du auch total verstehst, wie ich mich fühl, was?"

Und dann spuckt sie ein Wort aus, das sie nur in der Schule gelernt haben kann, und verschwindet in ihrem Zimmer.

Sebastian könnte heulen.

Und vielleicht heult er sogar ein bisschen, während er die Spülmaschine einräumt, ein paar einzelne Tränen, weil er frustriert ist, dass er seiner Tochter nicht helfen kann, und weil es Julia so sehr egal ist.

Wenigstens ist es Herrn Lannert nicht egal. Sebastian setzt sich ins Wohnzimmer und zieht die Füße hoch, um ihn anzurufen. Er fröstelt ein bisschen, als er die Nummer eintippt, und er weiß nicht, ob es wegen der Kälte liegt, oder er einfach nur aufgeregt ist.

"Lannert?"

"Hier ist Sebastian Bootz."

"Guten Abend. Wie ist es mit Maja gelaufen?", kommt es prompt zurück, fröhlich wie immer.

Sebastian seufzt. "Sie sagt, ich verstehe nicht, wie sie sich fühlt."

"Teenager", sagt Herr Lannert in einem so entnervten Tonfall, dass Sebastian lachen muss. "Sie sind Lehrer", sagt er, und Herr Lannert seufzt. "Da haben Sie auch wieder recht."

"Wie ist's eigentlich mit den Klassenarbeiten gelaufen?", fragt Sebastian, obwohl ihn das eigentlich gar nichts angeht, und er das auch weiß, und Herr Lannert seufzt erneut. "Ich habe das Gefühl, dass sie gar nicht eigenständig denken", sagt er.

"Klingt ja nicht so gut", meint Sebastian bestürzt.

"Na, so schlimm ist es auch wieder nicht, viele schreiben auch sehr gute Arbeiten", versucht Herr Lannert sofort, seine Schüler zu verteidigen.

"Was für Fächer unterrichten Sie eigentlich? Maja hat Sie ja in Geschichte und Deutsch...", fragt Sebastian.

"Latein und evangelische Religion", sagt Herr Lannert und klingt merkwürdig begeistert, obwohl Sebastian an den Fächern nicht wirklich etwas Besonderes sieht. Im Gegenteil, in Latein ist er immer besonders schlecht gewesen, aber das wird er Herrn Lannert ja wohl jetzt nicht gerade erzählen.

"Aber Deutsch ist als Fach am interessantesten. Vor allem in den jüngeren Klassen, wenn noch viel kreatives Schreiben auf dem Lehrplan steht, kommen zum Teil wirklich faszinierende Dinge raus", fügt Herr Lannert hinzu, und klingt dabei immer noch so aufgeregt, dass Sebastian lächeln muss.

"Aber natürlich ist es auch anstrengend, die ganzen Texte zu korrigieren", erzählt er weiter, und fängt an, irgendetwas über Kürzel zu erklären, die seine Schüler nie verstehen, und darüber, dass es interessant ist, wie viele gute Argumente in Erörterungstexten tatsächlich gebracht werden, einfach, weil man sich auf diese weniger vorbereiten kann und man dazu gezwungen ist, selbstständig zu denken, und Sebastian denkt, dass er diesem Mann immer zuhören könnte, und manchmal sagt er etwas, er weiß selbst nicht genau, was, und Herr Lannert lacht leise und sagt "Da haben sie recht, aber...".

Sie reden eine gefühlte Ewigkeit über dies und das, bis Herr Lannert fragt: "Müssen ihre Kinder nicht mal ins Bett?"

"Oh. Mist", sagt Sebastian, und Herr Lannert lacht wieder. "Ich muss eigentlich auch ins Bett", erklärt er dann und gähnt wie auf Kommando, und irgendwie muss Sebastian auch gähnen. "Jetzt haben sie mich angesteckt", sagt er, jetzt auch lachend.

"Das spricht für Sie. Menschen, die sich vom Gähnen anderer Menschen anstecken lassen, sind oft sehr empfindsam und können Anderen so besser helfen. Was hoffentlich auch bei Ihrer Tochter wirkt", erklärt Herr Lannert und gähnt erneut. "Sie kommen doch auch zum Sommerfest?", fragt er dann.

"Äh", sagt Sebastian, denn er hat bis jetzt nicht vorgehabt, zum Sommerfest zu kommen, aber plötzlich hat er schon Lust darauf bekommen. "Äh, ja", entscheidet er schließlich.

"Gut", sagt Herr Lannert. "Denn dann sehen wir uns sicher da. Sie können sich vielleicht vorstellen, dass ich nicht den ganzen Nachmittag von Eltern belagert werden will. Da kommen Sie mir ganz recht."

"Gut", sagt auch Sebastian, überlegt, ob er ihn darauf hinweisen soll, dass er, Sebastian, ja auch der Vater einer Schülerin ist, entscheidet sich dann aber dagegen. "Bis dann", fügt er hinzu, obwohl etwas in ihm nicht auflegen will.

"Bis bald", sagt Herr Lannert, plötzlich ernst.

Dann ist die Verbindung unterbrochen und Sebastian muss losgehen und Maja ins Bett bringen.

Diese protestiert nicht, als er sie zum Zähneputzen schickt, doch für Sebastian ist es nur ein weiteres Zeichen dafür, dass sie in letzter Zeit still geworden ist, und als er später allein in seinem Arbeitszimmer sitzt, ertappt er sich dabei, wie er sehnsüchtig das Telefon anstarrt.

Kapitel 5: In dem Sebastian Bootz ein paar überraschende Entdeckungen macht

Wettertechnisch ist es fast unmöglich, dass es so lange ununterbrochen regnet, und Sebastian ist davon überzeugt, dass es aufhört, sobald er einschläft, und weitergeht, sobald er aufwacht, doch er kann es nicht beweisen, und so versucht er, es einfach nicht so beachten. Trotzdem fragt er sich manchmal, ob die Sonne hinter den Wolken überhaupt noch existiert.

Maja spricht selten über die Schule, und Sebastian kommt es manchmal so vor, als müsste er ihr jeden Satz einzeln aus der Nase ziehen, aber er kann ja schlecht einfach fragen, wie es Herrn Lannert geht, und noch weniger kann er sich erklären, wieso es ihm so wichtig ist.

Maja schweigt, und Sebastian macht sich nur noch größere Sorgen, jetzt, wo er niemanden mehr hat, mit dem er reden kann, denn Julia hat er immer noch nichts gesagt, schließlich ist sie ja immer so beschäftigt, sie kann nicht noch mehr um die Ohren gebrauchen. Außerdem kann es ja auch sein, dass es nichts wirklich schlimmes ist, und sich alles über die baldigen Sommerferien klärt.

Trotzdem macht Sebastian sich seine Gedanken, und er ist erleichtert, als es wieder Zeit für den Wocheneinkauf ist, denn es gibt ihm einen Grund, das Haus zu verlassen, in dem Henri immer nur in seinem Zimmer hockt und irgendwelche Computerspiele spielt und Maja laut Musik hört, die zwar fröhlich klingt, aber Sebastian trotzdem irgendwie traurig macht, und Julia nur in der Küche sitzt und ihn vorwurfsvoll anblickt, wenn sie ihn sieht.

Wenigstens kann er das Auto nehmen, was erstens heißt, dass er dieses Mal wohl nicht so nass werden wird, und ihm zweitens ermöglicht, anstatt zu dem näher gelegenen Edeka zu dem etwas weiter entfernten Aldi zu fahren, der günstiger ist und eine größere Auswahl hat.

Auf dem Weg dorthin hört er Radio und als er ankommt, hat er schon fast gute Laune und lächelt alten Damen zu, während er durch die Gänge marschiert und möglichst viel Gemüse einsammelt, denn nur, weil ihre Familie so langsam den Bach runtergeht, müssen sie ja nicht ihre Ernährung vernachlässigen.

Erst, als er die Schlange an der einzigen geöffneten Kasse sieht, und ihm auffällt, dass auch sonst kein Angestellter im Laden ist, der eine weitere öffnen könnte, erhält seine Laune einen leichten Dämpfer, aber er überlegt sich, dass es ja nicht so schlimm sein kann, ein bisschen anzustehen: Er weiß zwar, dass Julia sich beschweren wird, wenn er spät dran ist, aber jetzt hat er wenigstens einen Grund, etwas länger wegzubleiben.

Er reiht sich also ganz am Ende ein, fast am Ende des Ladens, und ist gerade dabei, die Yogurtauswahl zu begutachten, und zu überlegen, ob er vielleicht doch noch einen für Henri mitnehmen soll, als er eine Stimme hinter sich hört, die seinen Namen sagt.

"Herr Bootz?"

Sebastian dreht sich so schnell um, dass er sich an seinem Einkaufswagen festhalten muss, um nicht umzufallen.

Herr Lannert sieht überrascht aus, aber auch so eindeutig erfreut, dass Sebastian grinsen muss, als sie sich die Hand schütteln, und dann nochmal, als er sich fragt, wie er den Lehrer nicht vorher bemerkt hat, denn er trägt eine leuchtend türkise Regenjacke, die man eigentlich nicht so einfach übersehen kann.

"Wohnen sie hier in der Nähe?" fragt Sebastian, um Konversation zu betreiben und auch, weil es ihn wirklich interessiert, aber Herr Lannert schüttelt den Kopf. "Sonderangebote", erklärt er und macht eine vage Handbewegung in Richtung des Ladens.

Sie schweigen beide eine Weile, und Sebastian spürt, wie aufgeregt er ist, so aufgeregt, dass er sich beherrschen muss, um nicht loszukichern.

"Wie geht's eigentlich Ihrer Frau?", fragt Herr Lannert schließlich. "Die sieht man ja noch seltener bei Elternabenden als Sie", fügt er hinzu.

"Wird bei Elternabenden überhaupt was Sinnvolles besprochen?", fragt Sebastian zurück, denn er hat wirklich keine Lust, über Julia zu sprechen, und Herr Lannert muss lachen. "Wenn Sie mich als Lehrer fragen - ja. Aber als neutraler Beobachter..." Er schüttelt den Kopf.

"Haben Sie eigentlich noch einmal mit Maja gesprochen?", fragt er dann.

Sebastian schüttelt den Kopf und fühlt sich plötzlich schuldig.

"Sie sitzt immer nur in ihrem Zimmer", murmelt er, und Herr Lannert wird ernst.

"Könnte es Liebeskummer sein?", fragt er, doch Sebastian zuckt nur mit den Schultern. Er weiß es nicht. Er weiß wenig über seine Tochter, fällt ihm jetzt auf, so, als hätten sie irgendwann, vor vielen Jahren, aufgehört, miteinander zu reden, und ihm wäre es nie aufgefallen. Vielleicht ist ja genau das passiert.

"Es ist nicht Ihre Schuld", sagt Herr Lannert leise, und Sebastian weiß nicht, auf was genau er sich bezieht, aber er ist ihm dankbar.

"Wie ist es mit Ihren Klassenarbeiten noch gelaufen?", fragt er, um das Thema zu wechseln.

Herr Lannert verdreht die Augen. "Nicht gut. Man sollte meinen, dass sich die meisten nach acht Jahren Schule daran gewöhnt haben, Arbeiten zurückzubekommen. Und doch ist es jedes Mal ein Theater."

Sebastian muss grinsen, als er sich an seine eigene Schulzeit erinnert. "Frau Lehrerin, sie haben mir sechs Punkte gegeben, dabei hätte ich für diese Aufgabe noch einen halben Punkt mehr verdient! Können sie mir nicht doch eine fünf plus geben?", zitiert er einen Ex-Klassenkameraden, und Herr Lannert nickt gespielt ernsthaft. "Genau".

Jetzt wirft Sebastian doch einen Blick in Herrn Lannerts Einkaufswagen - und macht dort eine überraschende Entdeckung.

"Sie mögen Sushi?", fragt er aufgeregt, und bereut es sofort, als Herr Lannert nur mit den Schultern zuckt und etwas verwirrt nickt.

"Ähm... also Julia, meine Frau... mag Sushi nicht, und deswegen essen wir es so gut wie nie. Und ich freue mich halt, wenn ich andere Leute finde, die's auch mögen", erklärt Sebastian, und jetzt ist es ihm auch noch peinlich, dass Julia sein Leben so sehr bestimmt, doch Herrn Lannert scheint das nicht zu stören.

"Meinen Sie, Ihre Frau hat etwas dagegen, wenn ich sie in ein Sushi-Restaurant einlade?", fragt er und schenkt ihm ein strahlendes Lächeln, und Sebastian möchte dahinschmelzen.

Doch stattdessen lächelt er auch und sagt "Äh" und "Ja" und "Nein?" und dann steht er auch schon an der Kasse und muss sein Gemüse aufs Band stapeln, und dann, nachdem er bezahlt hat, alles in die von zu Hause mitgebrachten Stofftaschen packen. Er lässt sich Zeit, denn wenn er etwas wartet, kann er vielleicht noch ein paar Worte mit seinem neuen Lieblingslehrer wechseln, bevor er endgültig nach Hause muss.

Als er sich umdreht, wechselt Herr Lannert gerade noch ein paar Worte mit der Kassiererin, lächelt sie an, und Sebastian weiß, er sollte nicht eifersüchtig sein, aber irgendwie...

Sie treffen sich auf dem Parkplatz wieder, weil Sebastian nur wenige Plätze entfernt von Herrn Lannerts Porsche geparkt hat.

Es regnet immer noch, aber Sebastian stört es nur noch wenig, er ist in seinen Gedanken versunken, und schreckt erst auf, als Herr Lannert ihm "Bis Montag!" zuruft.

Sebastian lächelt und winkt und setzt sich dann in sein Auto und fragt sich, wie er Maja davon überzeugen kann, doch zum Sommerfest zu gehen.

Kapitel 6: Wie der Vater, so die Tochter

Julia ist da, Henri ist da, Maja ist da, und Sebastian hat Nudeln gekocht, um die Tatsache zu feiern, dass sie alle mal wieder gleichzeitig zu Hause sind, doch jetzt sitzen sie alle zusammen am Tisch, und keiner scheint seine gute Laune zu teilen.

Julia schweigt verbissen. Die Kinder mampfen.

"Wie läuft's in der Schule?", fragt Sebastian Henri, um das Eis zu brechen, doch dieser zuckt nur mit den Schultern und sagt "Ganz gut" und wendet sich wieder seinem Teller zu.

Es ist still und man hört nur den Regen, der immer noch gegen die Fenster klopft.

"Am Montag ist doch das Sommerfest", sagt Sebastian betont fröhlich.

Maja verdreht die Augen. "Wird sicher abgesagt. Bei dem Wetter...", sagt sie mit vollem Mund.

"Wird's bei Regen nicht in die Aula verlegt?", fragt Sebastian, und Maja murmelt irgendetwas in ihren Teller, was verdächtig nach "Trotzdem keine Lust" klingt.

"Ich kann mit dir hingehen, wenn du willst", bietet er an, ihren Kommentar absichtlich überhörend, und sie stöhnt.

"Mensch, Papa", sagt sie. "Ich will da echt nicht hin. Das ist doch voll beschissen."

Sebastian wird klar, dass er so nicht weiter kommt.

"Hast du keine Freundin, die mit dir hingeht?", fragt er und versucht krampfhaft, sich an die Namen von Majas Freundinnen zu erinnern. "Was ist mit Franziska?"

Maja wirft ihre Gabel so ruckartig in ihre Nudeln, dass Soße überall hin spritzt, dann steht sie auf und stürmt in ihr Zimmer. Bald darauf ertönt auch wieder Musik, doch nicht die üblichen Popsongs, sondern irgendetwas Wütendes, Tobendes.

Er bemerkt, wie Julia aufsteht und den Raum verlässt, aber er erkennt an der konstanten Lautstärke der Musik, dass sie nicht zu Maja gegangen ist.

Henri isst unbeirrt weiter.

Sebastian sitzt am Tisch und entschließt, allein zum Sommerfest der Schule seiner Tochter zu gehen.

Kapitel 7: In dem Sebastian Bootz einen heiligen Ort entweiht

Das Fest findet tatsächlich innen statt, in der Aula, der Cafeteria und dem überdachten Teil des Schulhofes. Der Regen trommelt gegen die Fenster, in den Räumen drängen sich Schüler, Eltern und Lehrer, und Sebastian fühlt sich unwohl.

Irgendjemand hat Musik angemacht, es riecht nach Kuchen, Waffeln, Pommes und Menschenmengen, die Luft ist feucht, und sonst scheint es keinen zu stören, also entschließt Sebastian, sich einfach ein bisschen umzuschauen, schließlich gibt es ja so viele Stände, dass auch etwas Interessantes dabei sein muss. Er treibt also mit dem Strom, durch die Flure und die Hallen, von einem Crepes-Stand zu einem Cocktail-Stand zu einem Schmink-Stand, und beginnt, sich zu fragen, ob er sich jetzt überfordert fühlen sollte, als ihn jemand am Arm anstupst.

"Ich dachte schon, Sie hätten sich verlaufen", sagt Herr Lannert und lächelt ihn an, und Sebastian wird so warm, dass er überlegt, ob er seine Lederjacke ausziehen könnte, obwohl vor der Tür gerade ein Gewitter losbricht.

Nachdem sie sich die Hand geschüttelt haben, wechseln sie ein paar Worte über das Fest, landen irgendwann bei den Ständen, dann fragt Herr Lannert: "Ich wollte gerade frische Luft schnappen gehen, haben Sie Lust, mitzukommen?"

Sebastian nickt.

Vor der Schule ist die Hölle los, aber der Hintereingang wird nur von Lehrern genutzt, und so setzen sie sich dort auf eine Bank und schauen in den Regen, erst schweigend, dann beginnt Sebastian, von seinem Gespräch mit Maja zu erzählen, und Herr Lannert sieht ihn nachdenklich an.

"Liebeskummer?", fragt er wieder, und Sebastian weiß es immer noch nicht.

Sie schweigen weiter, bis Sebastian sich irgendwann einen Ruck gibt und fragt: "Was machen Lehrer eigentlich am Wochenende?"

Herr Lannert starrt noch einen Moment weiter den Regen an, bevor er grinst. "Nicht viel. Zum Beispiel, mit Eltern von Schülerinnen Sushi essen gehen."

Sebastian muss lachen, und eine Frau lässt sich neben Herrn Lannert auf die Bank fallen.

"Abend zusammen", sagt sie, schüttelt ihre langen, braunen Locken und reibt sich die Stirn. "Meine Klasse hat einen Stand mit Slushies. Vier Stunden, sechs Euro Umsatz. Nie wieder", sagt sie, und wirft den Kopf zurück.

Sebastian beobachtet, wie Herr Lannert verkrampft versucht, nicht zu lachen.

"Sebastian Bootz", stellt er sich schließlich vor, und die Frau schüttelt ihm die Hand. "Alvarez. Englisch, Spanisch und Sport. Und sie?", fragt sie.

Sebastian ist eine Sekunde lang verwirrt, aber Herr Lannert versteht sofort, was sie meint, und schüttelt den Kopf. "Er ist der Vater von Maja", erklärt er, und Frau Alvarez macht ein "Ah"-Geräusch und mustert ihn weiterhin neugierig. "Und was machen Sie dann hier?", fragt sie. "Denn wissen sie, eigentlich kommen nur Lehrer hierher", fügt sie dann erklärend hinzu und sieht Herrn Lannert dabei streng an.

Sebastian würde am liebsten im Boden versinken, und zu seinem Unglück kommt noch hinzu, dass die beiden jetzt auch noch beginnen, sich einen Schlagabtausch über Privatsphäre und Schulstände zu liefern, und er seine verzweifelten Blicke nur noch dem Regen zuwerfen kann, bis Herr Lannert irgendwann aufsteht, sich streckt und "Ich geh dann mal wieder rein" sagt.

"Ich komm mit", sagt Sebastian und springt auch auf, und Frau Alvarez lacht.

"Dann viel Spaß noch", sagt sie und zwinkert ihm zu, und plötzlich wünscht er sich, er hätte beim Gespräch zwischen den beiden doch zugehört.

Sie schlängeln sich wieder durch die Menge, bleiben manchmal stehen, wenn Herr Lannert Sebastian etwas zeigen möchte, und sind irgendwann wieder am Haupteingang angekommen, und Sebastian bemerkt, dass er verdammt spät dran ist.

"Also", sagt er, merkwürdig verlegen, "ich muss dann mal los."

Herr Lannert nickt verständnisvoll, lächelt und schüttelt ihm die Hand.

"Ich hab das mit dem Sushi übrigens ernst gemeint. Also, wenn sie mal Lust haben..."

Dann ist er verschwunden, und Sebastian steht allein an der Bushaltestelle und kann nicht aufhören zu grinsen.

Sebastian lässt sich Zeit mit dem Anruf. Es ist die letzte Schulwoche, da haben Lehrer sicher noch mehr zu tun als sonst, und er muss ja den Urlaub planen. Er ist sich immer noch nicht sicher, ob sie überhaupt irgendetwas machen werden, ob Julia sich überhaupt Urlaub nehmen wird, ob Maja und Henri überhaupt wegfahren werden wollen, aber er macht sich schon mal seine Gedanken, nur für den Fall.

Der letzte Schultag ist ein Mittwoch, und Sebastian nimmt an, dass Herr Lannert mindestens ein paar Tage braucht, um zu feieren, dass er jetzt erst einmal ein paar Wochen nichts mehr mit Teenagern zu tun haben wird, also ruft er am Freitag an, und versucht, alle Nervosität zu verdrängen, während es in der Leitung tutet.

"Lannert?". Immer der gleiche Tonfall.

"Hier ist Sebastian Bootz", sagt Sebastian.

"Herr Bootz!". Herr Lannert klingt, als würde er lächeln, und Sebastian kann es sich wundervoll vorstellen.

Jetzt, wo es so weit ist, fällt Sebastian ein, dass er sich ja ruhig mal hätte überlegen können, was er sagen will, schließlich ist die Aussage "Sie wollten mich doch mal zum Sushi-Essen einladen" nicht gerade höflich, und etwas besseres fällt ihm im Moment auch nicht ein, doch zum Glück übernimmt Herr Lannert erst einmal das Gespräch.

"Wie geht es Ihnen?", fragt er, und Sebastian ist zwar froh, dass er jetzt einen Anschluss hat, fühlt sich aber trotzdem leicht überrumpelt. "Gut", sagt er aus Instinkt. "Und Ihnen?"

Herr Lannert geht auf die Frage nicht weiter ein. "Sie rufen wegen des Sushi-Essens an, oder?", fragt er weiter, und Sebastian nickt, obwohl er weiß, dass das am Telefon natürlich niemand sehen kann. "Ja."

"Gut", sagt Herr Lannert, so, als wäre es nicht nur ein "Verstanden" sondern auch ein "Ich freue mich, dass sie tatsächlich mit mir essen gehen wollen". "Wann würde es Ihnen denn passen?"

Ganz förmlich, denkt Sebastian plötzlich, und sagt: "Diese oder nächste Woche wäre am besten. Danach fahren wir vielleicht in Urlaub." Wenn er es irgendwann schafft, seine Familie darauf anzusprechen, fügt er im Gedanken hinzu.

Zum Glück fragt Herr Lannert nicht weiter nach. "Diese Woche würde auch für mich gut passen", sagt er, und es klingt gedankenverloren, bis er schließlich fragt: "Hätten sie zufällig morgen Zeit?"

Sebastian geht rasend schnell alles durch, was er an Terminen haben könnte, doch ihm fällt nichts ein. Samstage verbringt er meistens mit seinen Kindern und schaut sich abends irgendetwas im Fernsehen an, aber das muss er ja nicht unbedingt machen. "Äh, ja", sagt er also, greift nach einem Stift und schlägt hektisch seinen Terminkalender auf.

"Soll ich Sie dann einfach abholen?", fragt Herr Lannert.

Sebastian überlegt kurz, dann fällt ihm ein, dass Klassenlisten existieren. "Okay", sagt er schließlich, und Herr Lannert klingt erleichtert, als er "Dann so um sieben?", sagt. Sebastian stimmt zu, und dann wechseln sie noch ein paar Worte, über den Regen, der immer noch nicht aufgehört hat, an die Scheiben zu klopfen, über das Ende des Schuljahres, über die Zeugnisse, und Herr Lannert beklagt sich, dass es schwer ist, Noten zu machen, und dann verabschieden sie sich voneinander.

"Tschüss", sagt Sebastian.

"Bis morgen", sagt Herr Lannert mit einem Lächeln in seiner Stimme.

Sebastian sitzt im Wohnzimmer, wieder allein.

Und er bemerkt, wie aufgeregt er ist, und dass es sich trotzdem gut anfühlt. Er hat ein gutes Gefühl, zum ersten Mal seit Jahren, und alles ist schön.

Alles, außer der Tatsache, dass er nur noch einen Tag hat, um sich vorzubereiten.

Es regnet immer noch, als sie am Samstag beim Mittagessen sitzen, und irgendwie ist die Stille ansteckend, denn auch Sebastian sagt diesmal kein Wort. Stattdessen versucht er, den Blumenkohl möglichst langsam zu essen, denn bekanntlich dauert es ja zwanzig Minuten, bis das Sättegefühl eintritt, und er will ja nicht zu viel essen.

Als Maja die Stille bricht, verschluckt er sich fast vor Schreck.

"Heut Abend läuft so'n Film im Fernsehn", sagt sie, und schaut dabei weiter auf ihren Teller, als sei es für sie keine große Angelegenheit. "Braucht ihr den Fernseher heute abend oder kann ich...?"

Julia zuckt mit den Schultern. "Was ist das denn für ein Film?", fragt sie.

Maja läuft ein bisschen rot an, schaut immer noch nicht von ihrem Teller auf. "Heißt 'Eine Hochzeit zu dritt'", murmelt sie. "Ist ein Liebesfilm."

Julia lächelt. "Dann kann ich ja mitschauen", verkündet sie fröhlich, und wendet sich dann Sebastian zu. "Was ist mit dir?"

Sebastian betrachtet seinen Blumenkohl intensiver, als es eigentlich notwendig ist. "Äh", sagt er. "Also ja, könnt ihr ja machen. Ich bin verabredet." Er sieht nicht hin, aber er hört, dass Julia ihre Gabel hinlegt.

"Aha", sagt sie, als hätte sie vor, den Blumenkohl wieder einzufrieren. "Und wann hattest du vor, mir das mal zu sagen?"

Sebastian spürt, wie ihm heiß wird. "Na, ich treff mich mit Majas Klassenlehrer", sagt er, und Maja sieht jetzt doch auf. "Papa, das Schuljahr ist zu Ende."

Julia sieht wütend aus. "Also nur, weil ich von der Scheidung spreche, gehst du jetzt los und triffst dich mit Leuten, oder was?", fragt sie, lauter als notwendig, und Sebastian seufzt langgezogen, weil er wirklich nicht weiß, was er sagen soll. "Julia, müssen wir unbedingt...", beginnt er, wird aber von ihrem "Ja, müssen wir!" unterbrochen, und seufzt wieder, weil sie dann auf ihn einredet, bis er gar nicht mehr zuhören kann. Maja schiebt betreten ihren Blumenkohl auf dem Teller hin und her, und Henri scheint alles egal zu sein.

Als sie schließlich beginnen, die Teller abzuräumen, redet Julia nicht mehr, doch Sebastian weiß, dass sie immer noch wütend ist, obwohl er nicht wirklich verstehen kann, wieso.

Um 18.30 Uhr sitzt Sebastian im Wohnzimmer und starrt die Uhr an. Es ist viel zu früh, das weiß er, und er weiß auch, dass er etwas tun sollte, allein, um sich abzulenken, aber...

Maja spielt wieder ihre Musik, aber diesmal leiser, und sie ist auch nicht mehr wütend, sondern hoffnungsvoll, irgendetwas Deutsches, das Sebastian meint, aus seiner eigenen Jugend zu kennen. "Warum bleibst du nicht hier, heut Nacht?"

Er steht auf, beginnt, durch's Zimmer zu wandern, bleibt an einem Regal stehen, arrangiert uralte, vertrocknete Kastanientierchen neu, zieht schließlich irgendein Buch aus dem Regal und setzt sich wieder aufs Sofa, blättert hindurch.

Einer von Julias Romanen, die er nie gelesen hat, doch jetzt, wo er nichts besseres zu tun hat, schlägt er doch die erste Seite auf, überfliegt sie, lacht, als die charmante, doch manchmal sarkastische Protagonistin einen Spruch loslässt, und vergisst die Zeit, bis es plötzlich an der Tür klingelt.

Sebastians Blick fällt auf die Uhr. Der Mann ist pünktlich, denkt er, während er versucht, vor Julia zur Tür zu kommen, ohne rennen zu müssen.

Er schafft es gerade noch, und Herr Lannert sieht zum ersten Mal, seit sie sich kennen, etwas verlegen aus. "Ich wollte eigentlich zu Fuß kommen, aber...", sagt er und zeigt in den Himmel, der immer noch Regen von sich gibt, als würde er dafür bezahlt. Er trägt wieder seine absolut furchtbare türkise Regenjacke, aber Sebastian ist so froh, sie zu sehen.

"Das ist ok", sagt er also, lächelt Herrn Lannert an, der erleichtert, aber auch irgendwie durchnässt wirkt, und ruft ein "Bis später" nach oben. Er meint, ein leichtes Gemurmel von Julia zu hören, ist sich aber nicht sicher, also schließt er die Tür hinter sich und rennt die wenigen Schritte zu Herrn Lannerts Auto, um nicht allzu nass zu werden - was nicht so unbedingt gelingt, da er trotzdem den ganzen Beifahrersitz nasstropft.

Herr Lannert sieht nicht gerade besser aus. Obwohl - seine Haare kringeln sich, wenn sie feucht sind, bemerkt Sebastian, und muss sich zusammenreißen, um nicht verzückt zu seufzen, denn es sieht auf merkwürdige Weise verdammt süß aus.

Herr Lannert lässt den Motor an und dann brettern sie rückwärts aus der Ausfahrt. Sebastian klammert sich erst einmal am Sitz fest, und ihm entfährt ein "Sie fahren ja gefährlich", das er sofort bereut. Er wirft Herrn Lannert einen vorsichtigen Blick zu, doch dieser behält die Straße im Auge und grinst nur leicht.

Soweit Sebastian es einschätzen kann, ist der Weg zum Restaurant wirklich kurz, doch immer noch zu lang, um ihn an einem regnerischen Tag zu Fuß zu gehen, aber das Restaurant ist wirklich nett, klein, aber hell und modern, und die Kellnerin zeigt sich wirklich geduldig, als sie etwas länger warten muss, bis sie die Bestellung aufnehmen kann, weil Herr Lannert einen Witz gemacht hat, und Sebastian nicht aufhören kann zu lachen.

Als sie schließlich da sitzen und sich umblicken, kommt Sebastian ein Gedanke.

"Also, wo wir ja jetzt zusammen essen gehen... wir, äh, könnten uns duzen", schlägt er vor, nicht sicher, ob er Herrn Lannert darauf ansprechen sollte, dass sie schon ein paar Jahre Altersunterschied haben.

Herr Lannert sieht einen Moment lang überrascht aus, doch dann lächelt er. "Thorsten", sagt er.

"Sebastian".

Sie schütteln sich wieder die Hand, Sebastian muss grinsen und fügt hinzu: "Oder Basti, wie sie wollen."

Herr Lannert... Thorsten grinst auch, bis Sebastian "Und, gibt's für Thorsten auch irgendwelche Spitznamen?" fragt, und er das Gesicht verzieht und "Auf keinen Fall" sagt, und Sebastian wieder lachen muss.

Doch Thorsten verteidigt seine Meinung, und noch bevor das Essen kommt diskutieren sie wild, über Namen, über Werbung, über Erziehung, über Zeugnisnoten, und als sie zahlen, weiß Sebastian zwar noch, dass das Essen gut war, kann sich aber auch nicht mehr genau daran erinnern, was er eigentlich gegessen hat.

Und an dem Punkt ist es auch schon fast zehn, und Sebastian müsste eigentlich nach Hause, um Julia nicht noch mehr zu verärgern, doch als sie vor die Tür treten, lächelt Thorsten und sagt: "Schau mal nach oben."

Sebastian gehorcht, und der Himmel ist dunkel, samtig, und vollkommen regenlos.

"Holla die Waldfee", sagt er, und als Thorsten vorschlägt, doch noch zu Fuß zu gehen, sagt er nicht nein.

Es ist dunkel und noch irgendwie nass, aber die Luft ist klar und manchmal stoßen ihre Schultern aneinander, und Sebastian weiß nicht, ob das Zufall ist, oder nicht.

Vor Sebastians Haus bleiben sie stehen, und für einen kleinen Moment denkt Sebastian, Thorsten würde sich vorbeugen, um ihn zu küssen, doch dieser schlägt ihm nur freundschaftlich gegen die Schulter und sagt: "Es war schön heute Abend."

"Ja", sagt Sebastian, und irgendwie muss Thorsten vergessen haben, dass seine Hand immer noch auf Sebastians Arm liegt, aber er will ihn auch nicht daran erinnern.

"Magst du zufällig auch indisches Essen?", fragt er dann, und kann förmlich beobachten, wie Thorstens Augen aufleuchten.

"Also ruf ich dich dann wieder an?", fragt er weiter, aber jetzt schüttelt Thorsten den Kopf.

"Lass mal, ich ruf dich an", sagt er, und: "Also bis dann."

Und dann geht er winkend wieder zurück zum Restaurant, und Sebastian geht in sein Haus und am Wohnzimmer vorbei, wo Maja und Julia immer noch vor dem Fernseher sitzen, und in sein Arbeitszimmer.

Dort kann er nicht ruhig sitzen, er geht auf und ab, und irgendwann wird Sebastian bewusst, dass er sich vielleicht ein kleines bisschen in den Klassenlehrer seiner Tochter verknallt hat.

Thorsten lässt sich Zeit mit dem Anruf. Sebastian weiß nicht, was er tun soll, also sitzt er in seinem Arbeitszimmer herum, informiert sich über Wohnungen und Jobangebote in Stuttgart, spielt Solitär, liest Julias Romane, und macht sich Gedanken über Maja. Er hat sich die Handlung von "Eine Hochzeit zu dritt" im Internet durchgelesen und schon eine kleine Theorie dazu, wieso Maja genau diesen Film unbedingt sehen wollte, aber weiß noch nicht, wie er sie ansprechen könnte, auch, weil Maja, jetzt wo Ferien sind, ihr Zimmer immer seltener verlässt. Henri sieht man jetzt dafür um so häufiger irgendwo im Wohnzimmer sitzen.

Sebastian hat auch schon darüber nachgedacht, nur mit seinen Kindern wegzufahren, irgendwo ans Meer, und Julia einfach mal alles überdenken zu lassen, und als er eine Woche nach seinem Treffen immer noch ohne Anruf dasitzt, entschließt er, dass es eigentlich gar keine so schlechte Idee ist.

Maja erwischt er auf dem Weg zum Klo und sie sagt nur "Okay", Henri schwimmt sowieso gerne, und ein Last-Minute-Angebot später zieht Sebastian los und sagt seinen Kindern, sie sollen ihre Koffer packen, es gehe ans Meer.

Natürlich ist Julia nicht begeistert, aber Sebastian weiß aus Erfahrung, dass sie von der Nordsee sowieso nicht so angetan ist, also macht er sich auch keine Vorwürfe, als er sich am nächsten Tag mit Maja und Henri in den Zug setzt.

An der Nordsee ist es kalt und windig, aber sonnig, und das Apartment ist zwar klein, aber sauber und gemütlich. Henri versucht, schwimmen zu gehen, doch das Meer ist zu kalt, also stapfen sie einfach nur durch den Sand, immer am Wasser entlang, und sammeln kleine Muscheln.

Maja ist still, doch jetzt ist es Sebastian auch, und so schweigen sie sich an, während sie in der Sonne sitzen und sie Musik hört und es ihn nicht stört.

"Was hast du eigentlich mit Herrn Lannert besprochen?", fragt sie irgendwann beim Abendessen, und Sebastian ist plötzlich darüber erstaunt, wie erwachsen sie schon klingt.

"Ach, nichts, wir waren essen", sagt er, und obwohl sie nicht weiter nachfragt, weiß er, dass sie weiß, dass das nicht die Wahrheit ist.

Als sie zurück nach Stuttgart kommen, ist auch Julia still geworden, und die Stille verbreitet sich auch in ihrem Haus. Doch während sie am Meer angenehm war, ist sie hier einfach nur schmerzhaft und fühlt sich leer an.

Bis irgendwann das Telefon klingelt.

"Hallo?"

"Hallo, Maja. Könnte ich bitte mit deinem Vater sprechen?"

"Papa!", schallt es durchs ganze Haus, so laut, dass es auch Sebastian erreicht, der gerade in seinem Arbeitszimmer vor sich hin träumt. "Telefon!"

Sebastian weiß sofort, wer ihn da anruft, und möchte am liebsten sofort zum Telefon rennen, doch er lässt sich Zeit mit der Treppe, damit er nicht außer Atem ist, wenn er im Wohnzimmer ankommt, aber auch, weil sich Thorsten ja mit dem Anruf auch Zeit gelassen hat. Ein paar Sekunden mehr können da ja nicht schaden.

"Was will Herr Lannert von dir?", zischt Maja ihm zu, als sie ihm den Hörer übergibt, doch er geht nicht auf ihre Frage ein. "Bootz?", sagt er stattdessen, in genau dem neutralen, fordernden Tonfall, mit dem Thorsten sich normalerweise am Telefon meldet. Dieser lacht und sagt "Ich bin's", und Sebastian kann ihm einfach nicht mehr länger böse sein.

"Du hast dir Zeit gelassen", sagt er trotzdem.

"Tut mir leid. Frau Alvarez hat mir überraschend angeboten, mich mit nach Rom zu nehmen, und als Lateinlehrer konnte ich da nicht so einfach nein sagen", erklärt Thorsten, und Sebastian beginnt sofort, sich für seinen Kommentar schuldig zu fühlen.

"Oh", sagt er also, und fragt dann doch noch mal nach: "Wie war's denn?"

"Schön", sagt Thorsten, und Sebastian kann sein Lächeln fast vor sich sehen. "Willst du die kurze oder die lange Fassung hören?"

"Die lange. Ich hab Zeit", sagt Sebastian und lässt sich aufs Sofa fallen.

Aus dem Augenwinkel sieht er, wie Maja sich auf dem Sessel niederlässt und ihn böse anstarrt, aber er denkt nicht weiter darüber nach, als Thorsten beginnt, zu erzählen, erst von der Reise, dann von Ruinen, Katzen, alten Inschriften und ganz bezaubernden Bars, von Dingen, die Sebastian normalerweise nicht besonders interessieren würden, aber jetzt plötzlich faszinierend erscheinen. Thorsten muss ein wunderbarer Lehrer sein, denkt Sebastian, und ein noch besserer Geschichtenerzähler.

"Was hast du so gemacht? Bist du mit deiner Familie weggefahren?", fragt Thorsten dann, und Sebastian überlegt einige Sekunden lang, wie viel er erzählen soll.

"Wir sind ein paar Tage an die Nordsee gefahren. Also Maja, Henri und ich", sagt er schließlich. "War schön", fügt er hinzu, schließlich muss er ja auch irgendetwas sagen.

"Und deine Frau?", fragt Thorsten.

"Will jetzt erst recht die Scheidung", erklärt Sebastian. "Unternimmt aber nichts dafür, also wird's wahrscheinlich so schnell nichts."

"Klingt trotzdem nicht so super", sagt Thorsten und er klingt besorgt, also wechselt Sebastian schnell das Thema und sagt: "Indisch?"

Diesmal hat Sebastian das Restaurant ausgesucht, ein etwas größeres, das ein Stück außerhalb liegt. Trotzdem kann er Thorsten nicht abholen, denn Julia hat das Auto beschlagnahmt - angeblich, weil sie es für die Arbeit braucht, doch Sebastian weiß, dass sie nur wieder mit ihren Kolleginnen etwas trinken geht. Also wartet er geduldig im Wohnzimmer und zupft immer wieder am weißen Hemd herum, das Julia ihm vor Jahren mal geschenkt hat - angeblich, weil er nie elegant genug aussieht, doch jetzt erweist es sich ja doch als nützlich. Auf seine alte Lederjacke verzichtet er jedoch nicht. Maja ist losgegangen, um bei einer Freundin zu übernachten. Er meint, sich zu erinnern, dass sie erwähnt hat, dass sie Franziska heißt, und versucht, sich an das eine Mal vor ein paar Monaten zu erinnern, als diese zu Besuch war. Klein und blond? Nein, ihr Name fing mit K an. Franziska, Franziska... ihm fällt es wieder ein, sie ist ein wenig größer als Maja, hat dunkle Haare und dunkle Haut, wirkt ein wenig vorwitzig, ist aber sehr lieb. Henri hat nichts dagegen, allein zuhause zu sein, und sitzt schon seit Stunden vor einem Videospiel. Sebastian versucht sich einzureden, dass er kein schlechtes Gewissen hat, aber irgendwie... Gerade, als er sich überlegt, ob er noch genug Zeit hat, um Julias Roman weiterzulesen, klingelt es an der Tür, und draußen steht Thorsten mit einem kleinen Lächeln und einer leicht matschig aussehenden rosa Rose. "Hast du vielleicht eine Vase hierfür?", fragt er und wedelt leicht mit der Blume, und als Sebastian sich von der Überraschung und dem schneller schlagenden Herzen ein wenig erholt hat, nickt er. "Klar, wenn du kurz mit reinkommst", sagt er, und Thorsten nickt ernsthaft und überreicht ihm die Rose. In der Küche lehnt sich Thorsten an die Wand und sieht sich um, während Sebastian versucht, eine Blumenvase hinter den Gläsern hervorzukramen. "Hübsch", sagt Thorsten. "Danke", sagt Sebastian und füllt Wasser in die Vase. Sie ist zwar etwas zu groß, aber wenigstens ist die Blume gerettet, oder wenigstens haben sie ihr etwas mehr Zeit geschenkt. "Mein Wagen hat einen Platten, deswegen bin ich zu Fuß hergekommen", erklärt Thorsten, "Und da lag sie auf dem Boden und ich konnte sie doch nicht einfach liegenlassen..." Sebastian stöhnt leise. "So schlimm?", fragt Thorsten besorgt, und Sebastian schüttelt den Kopf. "Das ist es nicht. Julia hat das Auto. Das heißt, wir müssen mit der Bahn fahren", erklärt er und verdreht die Augen. Thorsten wirkt verwirrt, dann lächelt er ermutigend. "Wird schon nicht so schlimm", sagt er, und Sebastian stöhnt erneut, bringt dann aber die Blume in sein Arbeitszimmer und sie brechen auf. Erst, als sie schon zehn Minuten an der Haltestelle gestanden, es immer noch regnet und es langsam sogar zu kalt wird, um zu reden, und Sebastian zittert und sich wünscht, doch zum Mantel gegriffen zu haben, sieht Thorsten ein, dass er vielleicht Unrecht hatte. "Wenn sie in fünf Minuten noch nicht hier ist, zahle ich ein Taxi", sagt er leicht knurrig, doch in dem Moment erkennt Sebastian durch den Regen die Lichter der Bahn und spürt, wie sich seine Laune noch mehr verschlechtert. Wie erwartet ist die Bahn so überfüllt, dass sie sich nur noch in eine Ecke quetschen und auf beste hoffen können, und Sebastian hasst es, von Leuten berührt zu werden, die er nicht kennt, und genau das passiert in Bahnen viel zu viel. Thorsten scheint es nicht so schlimm zu finden, doch er scheint auch noch nie zuvor Bahn gefahren zu sein, denn als sie in die erste Kurve kommen hält er sich nicht angemessen fest und wird sofort gegen Sebastian gedrückt. "Au", sagt Sebastian, mehr aus Instinkt als aus wirklichem Schmerz, und Thorsten ist trotz des Wetters überraschend warm. "Mist", sagt Thorsten und versucht jetzt doch, sich festzuhalten, wenn auch mit wenig Erfolg. Als sie aussteigen, fühlt sich Sebastian so, als seien sie sich jetzt näher als zuvor - auch wenn er nicht weiß, wie und wieso und ob er es sich nur einbildet.

#last chapter written almost a year after the others so bear with me pls #tatort stuttgart #crime scene dream team #the teacher au #god fucking damnit antonia

21 notes · View notes