The man stood blankly on the stage, aimlessly shambling about. A soft, gentle noise came from his lips as he lost himself in his own voice. The song spilled out like a gentle stream, where one could sit and relax all day, and that was exactly what the woman was doing. She stood idly in the corner, both too shy and too afraid to step forward. She had met him once, but it had been a long time ago. She doubted he remembered. He had sung for her then too. She never thought she would hear it again. She was simply here for her own private practicing, before realizing that the hall had been taken already by this man. But she was not complaining. Something about the simplicity of the man singing in the mix of moonlight and shadow from the broken roof filled her with a calm she hadn't had since the war had started She didn't want to ruin it. She sighed. The man heard, and jumped in surprise.

The man was so used to being attacked that he grabbed a nearby chair and threw it in her direction. She yelped and ducked out of the way, before turning back to him.

"Wh-Why? Why would you do that?!" She said fearfully. She could feel her face reddening. Already, this interaction seemed to be taking a nosedive.

"I… I uh… Sorry I just…" His breathing slowed down and he managed a smile "It's a war you know?" The man said, laughing awkwardly to himself. The woman remained quiet. Eventually the man cleared his throat.

"Um… Sorry. I didn't mean to throw that chair at you, you just startled me. That's all. It didn't hit you did it?" The man looked at her with concern.

"No…" She said quietly, still shaken.

"Oh, good, that's a relief." The man said happily. "I don't think we've met have we?" He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "Wait… wait yes we did! I remember I was…" he looked away suddenly. "I… can't remember." He said, unconvincingly. Why would he lie? She wondered. The man smiled again and continued. "Well, anyways, I'm-" A thought suddenly struck the man. "Wait… how long… were you um… standing there. Watching me." His face turned a bright pink. The woman's turned many shades darker. She couldn't reveal that she had been there from start to finish, to witness every time he messed up a little and went back to the beginning, to witness his serenity. It would be too embarrassing.

"Oh, oh no, not at all I was only here f-for um… for aaaaaaa….. The last line. Yes the last line. That's all…" She said, unconvincingly. She couldn't focus, she was too riled up from the chair still. The man didn't seem to buy it, but he let it be, much to the woman's relief. He lied once already, he could let her have this one.

"Well… alright I guess." He said. Odd, the woman noticed. He looked as though he was about twenty three, a year older than her, but by his mannerisms it was almost as if he was much younger. She found it almost endearing, but she could put no more attention on it. If he kept staring at her like he was, she was certain she was going to explode from the embarrassment.

"I… I-I'll just go I guess. I didn't mean to interrupt you. I.. You sound good! You do! B-But I'm just going to leave and go back to my tent now." She turned to leave but he called out to her in weak protest.

"Wait, but…" He said almost to himself. He looked around for a moment, almost in a daze, and then focused back on her as her form faded through the doorway. He reached his hand out and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. It was too late. She was gone. And he was left alone, on a makeshift stage, in the middle of a crummy dining hall. The song was no longer in him, and he slowly made his way back to his tent.

My first memory was something cold under my face. My whole body ached, badly, and I wanted nothing more than to press into the cold hard floor under me. My next sense, after touch, to return to me was hearing. I didn't like what I heard. There were voices, at first indistinct, but then louder, clearer. Invader, they were saying. There was no way that this was directed towards me. And then I realized it was. He's going to kill the queen, another voice shouted, this time softer and more feminine. I recoiled internally at the first word. It was wrong, though I didn't quite know why at that time. Next came smell and taste, so simultaneously I couldn't tell the difference. Wherever I was smelled of flowers, calling to my mind roses and perfume. There were hand around my arms now, dragging me up to my knees. And finally, after this assault to my senses, my eyes decided to work.

The thing that took up my field of vision the most was the spear pointed at my throat, which led up to a young woman. She was clad in a yellow and black kimono, with an armored breastplate worn over the torso and embossed with a sun insignia. Her bluish-black hair was bound up in a ponytail, and her violet eyes stared something like murder at me. My only thought was, rather inappropriately, Who the fuck wears a kimono?

"Ugh! What are you doing here, Nohrian scum? Talk before I kill you!", she said, and I felt a rush of fear. Someone was trying to kill me. I looked around and saw the two people holding my arms and a man standing in the corner of the room, staring at me. He had a low cut red kimono-like shirt and red shoulder length hair, his mouth covered by a mask and his neck wrapped in a black scarf. I couldn't see his face well enough, but I was sure he was frowning.

"Answer me before I make a mess of this place," the woman shouted at me, her spear moving closer. I could feel the point of its head touch painfully to my Adam's apple, and a small trickle of blood made its way down my neck. "So who sent you to kill Mikoto?"

I tensed. "Mikoto? W-who is she? What is 'Nohrian'?" The woman raised an eyebrow and pouted. I could feel her anticipation and readiness to stab me through. "I-I don't know where I am. Hell, I don't even know who I am. Can you please, um, put down the weapons and we can settle this like...like not feudal warmongers?"

The spear didn't lower. "Tell me the truth and you will get a quick death and no one will have to get their clothes ruined. Did King Garon send you?"

I gulped, which only served to scratch me again with the blade of her spear. I sensed this woman wasn't going to give in until I gave her the answer she wanted. But I had no idea who King Garon was. Where am I, I thought to myself. Feudal fucking Japan? What's wrong with everyone here.

"Oboro, it's clear this isn't working." The redheaded man said, walking towards me. He made eye contact with me and I saw that his left eye was scarred through. He seemed to be trying to convey some kind of kindness with his eyes, though the scar detracted slightly. The woman, who I assumed to be Oboro, sighed audibly and pulled the spear away from my neck, before grunting and smacking me in the side of the head with the flat of the blade. I dropped to the ground and the guards holding me back let go as well, and blood trickled from my temple to the white marble on the floor.

"All yours, Saizo." Oboro sneered at me and turned away.

Saizo extended a hand to me. "Come on, let me help you up." I reached up and took hold of his hand, and he pulled me to my feet. I felt myself moved and suddenly I was pressed against a pillar, arms wrenched back, and Saizo was glaring at me, holding a piece of shiny metal to my throat. Another small cut was etched into my neck, and another stream of blood trickled down. "Who sent you? Why are you here? If you don't tell me who put you here I will make sure you suffer, whelp."

I tried to catch my breath. The wind had been knocked out of me by my impact with the pillar. Why is everyone yelling at me and pointing pointy metal bits at my neck, I thought to myself. "I came from...um…the land of…", I tried to say, attempting an excuse, but Saizo's shuriken dug into the skin on the side of my neck. "I…"

I was cut off by the doors at the end of the room swinging open. A tall woman with long black hair in a flowing white dress stormed in. "What is going on here? Saizo? Oboro?" She made eye contact with me. I had slumped to the ground after Saizo pulled away in almost shame, and was currently trying to dam the blood flow from the nicks on my throat with my hand. The strange woman rushed towards me.

"Queen Mikoto, this isn't a civilian." Saizo tried to stop her movement. "This is a Nohrian assassin!"

The Queen rolled her eyes at Saizo and knelt down in front of me. The rose smell I had noticed earlier seemed to emanate off of her, though not unpleasantly. "Hello! I'm Mikoto, Queen of Hoshido. I'm sorry for the regrettable offenses of my guards. What is your name?" She smiled warmly and I felt at home, but then my brain seemed to freeze. I couldn't answer her question, but then a single name solidified in my brain.

"Jason," I said. "I'm Jason." My head reeled. Saying my own name triggered something in my head and a wave of memory flashed forward. I saw flocks of birds and sheaves of lined paper, balls of roiling flame and hulking undead. I smelt burnt flesh and fresh snow and cafeteria burgers and could taste what I somehow knew was bear flesh in my mouth. I tasted sugar in my mouth and saw a shock of orange hair and then everything went black and I slumped forward into Queen Mikoto.

The sun streaming through the window hurt my eyes. "I-Ian?", I stuttered. "What time is it…" There was no response. The bed I was in didn't feel like my bunk bed back at school, so I opened my eyes. The room in the light was a pale yellow and it smelled like roses. Roses, I thought, and I remembered what had happened in the throne room. "That must have been a dream…" I said to myself, out loud.

"W-what must have been a...a dream?" The soft voice from the other side of the room startled me and I jumped back. "Oh I'm so s-sorry! I didn't mean to scare you I'm so so sorry." The voice came from a girl who was standing in the room. She was wearing a white shirt and a red skirt, which matched well with her chin length red hair. She had a white headband with a flower in it. "I-I'm princess Sakura. Mother told me about how you fainted and that I should watch you to make sure you didn't get w-worse."

I sighed. "Okay, princess Sakura, cut the crap. What kind of bullshit LARP is this? Why was I abducted and beaten with real weapons and...do you know the health and safety consequences? You could seriously hurt someone!" Her face showed no recognition. I tried again, this time putting my fist to my forehead in the universal LARP-world gesture of 'out of character speech'. "I don't know where I am, but the fact that I was abducted or whatever to some place just to get smacked upside the head for your roleplaying enjoyment? This is fucked up. Let me go, I'm calling the cops."

Sakura looked at me with concern. "I...don't know what a 'LARP' is. I-I'm very sorry that Oboro and S-Saizo...that we hurt you b-but I don't know what y-you are talking about...um... this isn't a game...please stop yelling. Um...I hate to uh...worry you more b-but...my brothers said that I...uh...had to bring you to the throne room when you a-awoke so they could...talk to you and uh...I'm sorry I know it's been harsh and uh…"

"Bring me to them, then", I said. If there was no way that she's going to tell me what's going on than maybe the others will. I stood and blood rushed to my head, dizzying my vision momentarily. I steadied myself on the wall and caught my reflection in the window. What stared back startled me. My face shape was different, somehow, I didn't look like the same teenage Jason I had left behind at home. My face was sharper, my shoulders wider, and I looked in general...older. And my hair was longer, down past my shoulders. There must be something...wrong with that window, I thought to myself, although I was having difficulty convincing myself the changes weren't from me. I reached up and touched the ends of my hair. This is unsettling.

Sakura was standing by the now open door. "P-please come with me. I'm sorry b-but as long as you are telling the truth, you should have nothing t-to fear!"

If I'm at some weird cult acting game, than this is going to be awful and terrifying, I thought to myself as I walked down the hall of the Hoshidan castle. And yet...Why am I hoping that I'm an abductee? And not some...actual feudal kingdom or...I can't even imagine how it could get worse. And I know it can.

The man made his usual trip to the mess hall where he usually spent his nights. Not disliking the company of others, but prefering his own, he would sneak in there and practice his craft. On this particular night, he found that he was too late. Another had taken up the stage. The same woman as the one who had interrupted him nights before was dancing and singing to herself silently. Her voice almost made him envious, but not as much as her amazing dancework. She glided across the broken wooden stage in ways that the man could only dream of doing. Dancing had never been his strong point. In a similar fashion as the woman had a few nights ago, the man silently watched her from the corner, where the light couldn't reach. He had met her before, but he refused to admit it. That encounter had not gone as he had hoped it would, and he wasn't in the best frame of mind at the time. No, he prefered they have a clean slate. He was sure she remembered him though. He just hoped that he could eventually make her think that she was mistaken.

The woman continued her graceful display. Lost in her own art, just as the man had been the other night. It made no difference if it was late into the night, or in the very center of the day. The woman would perform. It was the only time she didn't mind having eyes on her. She loved the thought of entertaining, of make another person happier because of her. The man felt the same about his voice. In this mix of moonlight and shadow, the man could appreciate this woman as a strong performer, who was truly dedicated to what she does. The man sighed aloud, alerting the woman. Realizing what he had just done, his head suddenly turned to look and see if the woman had noticed. She had, but she hadn't seen who it was. The chair was already in the air. The man ducked. The sound of breaking wood crashed behind him. He looked back at the mess of a chair on the floor, then back to the woman.

"You know," He began "I'll bet that our leader is getting tired of replacing these chairs." The man laughed to ease tension, but it slowly faded out as the woman walked towards him.

"What are you DOING here?! Why couldn't you just go to bed, the same as the others?!" She said, face beet red. The man realized she was less angry, and more embarassed by his presence. She looked away, as if trying to hide her face.

"I'm sorry," Said the man, "I was was just going to… you know… practice? Like you were?" The woman continued to look away. The man sighed, and tried another approach. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes, so I just like to-" He was cut off.

"... Was it any good…?" The woman asked, almost inaudibly. The man blinked.

"What?" He asked.

"The dance." She said with another ounce of confidence. "Was it any good?" The man blinked again. Did she not realize how good she was? She was easily the best dancer the man had seen! Why would she have any doubt? Should he say that, however? Perhaps it was best to tell her that it was alright, but could've been better. Sometimes an artist wants that, it helps them strive to work harder, to do better. But he decided, in the end, to just be truthful.

"... It was the most beautiful dance I've ever seen." He said, smiling at her. She looked at him, briefly, directly in the face. Just long enough to see if he was sincere. Then she looked away again. She started shaking and making a small noise into the back of her hand, covering her mouth. The man thought he had made her cry.

"I-I mean it!" He said, trying to console her. The woman looked at him again, but she wasn't crying. She was laughing softly to herself. She smiled at him and gave him a light hug.

"... Thank you…" She said quickly and quietly, before pulling away and walking quickly towards the exit. Just the same as the previous night, the man felt the urge to call her back, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. The stage now his, he took his place, and began his own somber tune in the mix of moonlight and shadows.

A/N-

Hello all. Welcome to the first chapter of A Song for Peace and War. This chapter and fic is slightly connected to our previous [suspended] fic A Song Can Slay A Dragon, though reading that is by no means necessary. We hope you like this first chapter and are excited for future chapters!