Puppets Without Strings – Fran & Bel

Fran pressed his finger onto the treasured puppet's soft flesh. It was a gift from so long ago; and just as how he had succeeded the renowned illusionist, Viper, there was a new storm. A new storm with even greater power, stealth, ability, but Fran would have given this one up for his deranged prince any day, anytime, in a heartbeat.

He fingered the soft blond tousles, soft and silky; they were cut straight from his head after all.

"What are you doing?" the blonde Prince sat up from his bed, turning around to face the new illusionist.

Fran stared, "It's soft." he paused, "And silky." his hands were tangled in the former's hair.

Belphegor growled, "It seems like you haven't been taught the rules yet." knives flew with accurate precision.

Fran sighed, his fingers tracing the silk the puppet was wearing, red and black stripes, he smiled.

"Fake Prince, why do you always wear that shirt? Red and black just doesn't scream royalty." the emerald haired illusionist cocked his head.

A blade sliced his cheek lightly, "Mind your words. Violets with hints of golden thread were never for me to wear."

"What does that mean?" he never gave straight answers.

"It means, my little underling, that I'm a Prince, I don't need anything else to my name. I'm fine the way I am."

Fran grimaced as his eyes fell on the silver tiara, sitting halfway down the puppet's hair; it was very last gift from the Prince.

A crown fell onto Fran's lap, "Don't throw your tiara on me Princess."

"Take it."

The illusionist's eyes widened, "Your crown? For me? I'm afraid I cannot acc-"

The blonde growled, "It's not for you to keep. Just hold onto it for now."

"Why? You're just going on a mission; you bring your tiara with you to those too."

Belphegor sighed, running his hand down his face. He grinned at Fran, "I want you to hold onto it, just for this once. No arguments."

"You better come back and get your stupid tiara, I won't hold on forever." Click. The door closed.

His hands brushed away strands of hair revealing two closed eyes. His fingers hovered for a moment, hesitating before pressing them onto its eyes, pushing them open, closing his own.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, idiot Prince?" Fran grinned, holding his arms out, almost embracing the blood red sunset.

They had finished their mission with the usual, a round of Hide and Seek with the target, a fitting way for a commoner to die, a game worthy of royal blood, "What's so beautiful about it? It's just a stupid blue, nothing of concern."

"What did you say?"

"There's nothing special about the sky. I'm leaving, stupid froggy." he turned to go.

"Wait." Fran reached out, his hand grabbing Belphegor's shirt, "What colour did you say it was?"

"Blue." He had answered so confidently too.

"I'm sorry."

His body tensed, his mouth slightly ajar, "Let go of me." Fran let go.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you near me ever again. Don't let me even hear your footsteps. Ever." his voice was strained, ever so close to breaking.

Fran lowered his eyes, afraid to look at the blonde, even if the Prince could not see him; pity was said in hushed whispers, "I'm sorry."

Once more, for one last time, Fran held the puppet to his heart; the strings had been cut for another, one that would uphold enough for the new puppet made.

He stood up and placed the puppet of the old storm into a casket. He opened another drawer and took the strings into his hand.

A perfect replica of himself stared back with hollow eyes, with a flick of the illusionist's wrists, he saw himself come to life.

He knocked twice, waiting for the impatient child to throw open the door, "What is it, you stupid frog?" a tuft of red hair stared back at him. The child would grow, he did. And when he did, he would have a brat to take care of.

"Here." Fran smiled, shoving his frog hat into the boy's arms, the very hat that he had given him, "Hold onto it for me would you?"

"Why would I want your frog hat?"

"I'm not giving it to you; I'm just telling you to safeguard it for a while, just until I'm back from the mission."

The child tilted his head in question, "You always wear your hat on missions, didn't you say that it was a good defense against throwing knives? What's different about this time?"

Was this how he was back in the day? No wonder he had lost all patience, "No questions, just keep it for now."

Fran turned to go, it was his time to join with the rest of the Varia, he was the last to leave, "Before I forget,"

He turned around, throwing the puppet into the new Storm's arms and striking a pose, "Cut the strings when I give the signal." he grinned, before leaving in a rush, ignoring the boy's onslaught of questions.

Today's sky is just as beautiful as the past's.