[ Komahina | Hinakoma ] Oneshots

The Royal Ghost

[ Kid and Prince AU ]
Prince Komaeda meets a friend outside the castle, in the middle of the night.

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Prince Komaeda stays inside the castle all day, forbidden to go outiside until the age of 16. At least that's what King and Queen think, but that's all a fabrication, in reality he is free from that cage. After all the castle's quiet and everyone's in bed, he roams the halls. Walls made of smooth marble, reflecting the moonlight which glowed from the translucent curtains. Banners coated with gold and weaved by the most talented of tailors. The candles snuffed out, leaving little smoke coming from the wick. Walking until he reaches the secret passage, from the servants quarters to the garden, which he finds dark but enchanting.

Numbers of flowers, planted in the ground, unable to move. Komaeda thinks they're sadly beautiful, they are able to captivate him and many others. But they can't move, the roots beneath the ground stop them, making them still. It seems unfair, unjust, keeping them in a  single location until they wilt away and become unbareable to look at. Then they are gone, thrown away and forgotten. He believes if he is able to obtain freedom so shall the flowers. He picks a few every other night, nobody would know since the garden was just for presentation. He keeps them in his cloak, inside his pocket. Then he goes to the wall, covered in vines and easily able to crawl over.

The vines were thick and sturdy, it is very easy to climb if you get used to it and thankfully the wall wasn't high. It only took a few moments before he reached its peak, looking over the kingdom. He sometimes feels like a hero, being on top of the world, receiving priase for all the deeds he's done. Other times he feels like a thief, stealing loot in the dead of night and hiding in the shadows, where the guards cannot see him doing such petty crimes. He pulls himself up and sits on the ledge, grabbing onto a branch, standing up once he's sure he won't plummet. He swing his legs up and climbs on the branch, then he continues his way down. Piles of leaves were at the bottom of it's trunk, near the roots, it helped him soften his fall.

Standing up and cleaning himself of leaves, he hears voices in the distance. He hid behind the tree, seeing the guards making their rounds. He heard them talk about nonsense, about a ghost in the villages, and that if you see it you will recive luck the following day. He placed his hood on his head once he heard them fall deep into their coversation. Then he simply walked away. He walked through the trees and onto a dirt road, he saw a lot of the castles staff use this path when they head to the village. In the middle of the path on the left was a well, it was covered in damp moss, toss a coin in and say what you desire. That's what he heard on what your suppose to do when you cone across one. It was like a checkpoint to know that you're halfway there.

It wasn't that far of a walk but it was tiring. The uneven road was difficult to walk on and there were many twigs and roots, so you could trip on any fo them any time. But at the end of the journy was the treasure he's been waiting for, freedom. The village was supposedly small, not any bigger than a town, not any smaller than a hamlet. The houses were made of wood and other structures were made of stone like the church and the monument. It would be hard to see if it were not for the dim candle lights illuminating through the windows of the people. And as he goes through the streets he places the flowers on the windowsill on where he sees the light, as a gift for both the person and the flowers.

As he places a flower on the windowsil, he stares at the his reflection, noticing the monument behind him. He has only seen this once or twice while passing by. He's never really come to stay and look at it thoroughly. He turned around and walked closer to it, it was a monument of women holding a four-leaf clover. She had her hair down, seemingly being blown gently by the wind. Wearing a normal maiden's outfit, standing in the middle of a patch of land, covered in four-leaf clovers. There was a rim around it like fence, so that no one would touch it. And a plaque near it, he placed his hand over it, feeling the metal words beaneth his fingers. It read: