Fates Entwined (A TodoBaku ff) ✔

XX

Late into the evening Shoto sat at his desk in his room, carefully crafting letters to those he believed could be potential allies against Enji. Firstly Yaoyorozu Momo, whose letter was the easiest to write. The first few sentences were the basic formalities, apologising for not writing so long and inquiring into the search for potential husbands, things that would make any potential viewers lack suspicion of the rest of the letter's contents. He then wrote about his current whereabouts, some information about the lives of values of the people of the Edalian forest and of course the arranged marriage. Expressing his grave concerns about the war with his father, he hoped Momo could convince her parents and anyone else she may know to join their side. 

His list of other potential allies was rather short, and he grew frustrated with his lack of acquaintances due to his father's strict hand. He wrote one more letter before some stew was brought up to him by Denki, saying he had missed dinner and should eat something whilst working so hard. The blond tried to peer over his shoulder at the letters scattering Shoto's desk, but Shoto's height over him made it impossible. He thanked Denki and ate the stew quickly before returning to his task.

His list consisted of the Iida family, nobles who resided in Endeavour whose just and honourable values would hopefully aid them to put their trust in Shoto and overcome Enji's future villainy. They were skilled in medicine, law, and combat, making them invaluable. Then there was Kyouka Jirou, Momo's loyal knight, and he addressed a separate letter to her in the hopes that she could collect people with excellent combat skills and access to weaponry to join their side. The penultimate name was Fumikage Tokoyami, the only prince of Nightstorm: a kingdom he knew little about apart from that it received little daylight and there were rumours of its citizens practising dark magic and metamorphosis. Lastly, Hitoshi Shinsou from Catalin, a prince due to become king soon due to the death of his parents to a vile disease cursed upon them by a rogue spell-caster. The criminal was trialled and convicted, but it was too late to save the king and queen leaving Shinsou orphaned and with the crown ready to greet him.

He wasn't sure how to approach both Tokoyami and Shinsou, knowing too little about them to make his best attempt at an emotional plea for help for all of the kingdoms at his father's risk, including their own. After a few drafts he felt nothing he wrote was worthy enough, so he settled with having completed Momo's, Jirou's and Iida's letters before settling into bed for the evening. His hand ached and there were some splotches of ink on his skin, and his head felt weary and body tired. After changing into sleep clothes and drawing the curtains shut, he climbed into bed grateful for a few hours of rest...

He opened his eyes to be greeted with an ornate white ceiling decorated with gold. His four poster bed with countless luxurious sheets and blankets, felt foreign against his body. He sat up to see high-arched windows, a room with a steaming bubble bath ready to welcome him, and his personal collection of books on the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. His sword and crowd rested on their pillows, and the gleam of the sunlight they reflected made his eyes sting. 

He sat up, frowning as he took in this place that was his home for many years, but now felt gaudy and detached. Why was he here in his room? Was he not in the castle in Bikarin, writing letters to his friends asking for aid in the war and eating delicious foods with his newfound companions? He got out of bed on shaky feet, the few minute traces of concussion non-existent and his body strong and energised, and walked over to the window, looking down onto the vibrant and lush garden below. The rows and flowers and plants and trees, the fountains and greenhouse in the distance, everything was flowering so beautiful from the summer weather that he could feel through his open window. 

He dressed quickly and headed into the garden, hoping to catch the figure he found flitting in and out of the flowers. Everything was tangible, and he didn't wake up when pinching his forearm, so was this truly real? Had he hit his head and everything was a mere dream, a manifestation of his desire to escape his father? His breaths were quick as he sped up into a run, running into and apologising to several servants. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots, the distant sound of falling water rippling throughout the garden, it was all real.