Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a thing.
Author's Note: I know, I know. Not another multi-chap fic, but I have 6+ chapters already finished so I thought it was time to start posting. I'll update every other month.

There are slight deviations from canon, but nothing too significant. Here, Guren and company are the same ages as they are in the light novels (i.e. teenagers).
In terms of the universe, think Game of Thrones. Y'know-royal scandal, murder, and sarcastic minstrels.

As he picked himself out of the mud for the second time that day, Guren started to regret his decision to come alone. He rubbed the blood-speckled mud from his pulsing lip and spat out the gritty, metallic mixture that managed to seep through his clenched teeth and coat his tongue. He watched his latest assailant saunter off, drunkenly chuckling at reducing another "street urchin" to pulp.

No, he reasoned, cautiously rising to his feet in case the stranger happened to turn his head. It's better that I came alone. I can't imagine Sayuri or Shigure faring better.

He suppressed a wry smile at their parting words. Sayuri had been close to hysterics while Shigure attempted to glare a hole through him. He promised to wait an extra day for them to prepare, but then took advantage of their placated packing and disappeared in the night.

If this damn city doesn't kill me first, they'll finish the job after I left without them. Still, I think they finally got the message—I've been here for a week with still no sign of them. He had sent a letter with rendezvous instructions, but his carrier, a traveler heading in the opposite direction, could only be so reliable.

No matter. This won't take me much longer. Once I get inside the damn castle, I'm through.

Guren shrugged to himself and turned, shielding his eyes from the hot midafternoon sun as he scanned his environment. His lips drew up into a thoughtful frown and his squinting eyes caught on the familiar gray stone.

Has it really been ten years?

His glazed stare passed over the crimson flag, billowing in the soft breeze.

Yes, it had been ten years since the Hiiragis tore down the Ichinose emerald crest and replaced it with their own monstrosity. Ten years since his family was forced into hiding, barely surviving amongst the rest of the Hiiragi enemies.

He had been carefully skirting around the main entrance of the castle for the past few days. Although he assumed no one would recognize him (he doubted many passing peasants even remembered the Ichinose name), Guren wanted to be sure, laying low as he watched the guards pour in and out of the front gate in their daily routines.

When the predictability became comforting, Guren knew it was finally time to set his plan in action and move closer. He refused to hesitate as he stepped over the drawbridge threshold and planted himself further into enemy territory.

He had the perfect cover. Covered in mud and filth, he no longer resembled the banished heir of the lost Ichinose dynasty. Instead, he looked no more dignified than a pig keeper's apprentice. Guards and traders turned their noses as he passed by, sparing only a second of their attention to step further away from his stench.

After establishing a thoroughly disgusting and convincing cover, he only had to wait for the perfect opportunity to infiltrate the castle when the guards would be at their most consumed.

Fortunately, that moment would come soon. After swapping his last bread crust for information, Guren had heard from a fellow beggar that the crown prince to the Hiiragi throne was to celebrate his coronation as heir presumptive on the following day.

It would be polite to extend my…congratulations.

"Young Lord…"

A light knocking sounded at his door. He lowered his book and blinked at the door expectantly, almost as if someone would burst through. No one would dare enter his apartments without permission, but he almost wished someone would toss aside the formality. It would certainly make things more interesting.

He sighed and glanced back to his book, finishing the words on the page before gently setting it aside.

"Young Lord?" The voice was louder, less hesitant. "Have you awaken yet?"

Shinya suppressed an amused laugh. Judging by the sun's position and the warm yellow glow streaming through his window pane, it was nearly noon. If he slept to such late hours every day, he deserved every rumor the kitchen staff cooked up.

He rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes, stinging from hours of staring at pamphlets and lists. If the swirling, chaotic thoughts about the upcoming ceremony hadn't kept him up, he probably would be still sleeping.

No matter. It's time to be productive for once.

He swung his feet from their curled up position by his side and planted them on the ground.

"I am awake," he called to the door. "You are welcome to enter."

There was a pause before the door creaked open slowly. A young woman shuffled in slowly, giving Shinya ample time to make himself presentable. Fully clothed by the window, he smiled as his visitor.

"Hello, Miss Aiuchi. I hope things are well. Is there something you need from me?"

She smiled back, smoothing down her seamless dress in a nervous, primping manner. "I hate to trouble you so close to yo—"

"It isn't a bother at all! How can I help?" He interrupted her before she could finish.

Miss Aiuchi's relieved smile grew at Shinya's receptive attitude. It was always easier for her when the royal family decided to cooperate.

"The king wished for you to be fitted for a new outfit for tomorrow's ceremony. Lord Seishirou will be accompanying us. Apparently he too must have work done on his-"

Shinya laughed, setting aside his book and pulling himself into a standing position. "Did he split the seams in his royal trousers from the last banquet?"

Instead of going along with a joke, Miss Aiuchi looked horrified, glancing over her shoulder for any wandering ears. Shinya's laugh dried up quickly, his grin being replaced by a somber frown.

"I assume the tailor was unable to come to the castle himself?"

He did not relish the notion of riding through the busy streets, especially with Seishirou. Thinking of the ogling eyes and the relentless sun made his stomach slosh.

Miss Aiuchi bowed her head. "It was not my place to ask why."

He didn't push the matter anymore. If the king wanted to parade him through the streets again, dragging his foster brother in tow, he was powerless to object.

Shinya's smile faltered before he fixed it again. The tension disappeared so quickly that he doubted Miss Aiuchi had even managed to sense it.

This will be over by tomorrow. I won't have to worry about all of this ridiculous pomp and circumstance anymore.

It was a nice lie, but a lie nonetheless.

A freshly posted sign caught Guren's eye. He paused in the middle of the cramped alley, studying it with a cocked head and a thoughtful frown. The carefully scripted letters weren't intended for a pig apprentice's illiterate eyes, but he read the words without trouble.

He hummed to himself, scanning over the event details meant for wealthy guests before looking back at the accompanying portrait. The details were of poor quality, but Guren was able to piece together a rough mental image and compare it with the description from his instructions.

I'm glad my informer was so thorough. This picture could have matched half a dozen people in the tavern alone.

Guren's gaze flicked back to the words on the sign.

Why do they call it a coronation? He isn't becoming the king—he's being named the crown prince.

Guren narrowed his eyes.

It sounds like a pretty fancy ceremony for something pretty unimportant.

A light, twinkling laugh sounded to Guren's right. He stiffened, shooting a cautious side-glance to his new visitor. She—he assumed from the high-pitched giggle—was wrapped in a stained and torn cloak that concealed her face and hair.

"You poor pig boy! Can't even read the daily news." From within her cloak, Guren saw intelligent, bright eyes peering back at him.

His gaze quickly swept across her garments, noticing the intentional tears and fresh stains. The material of the fabric is too rich—too nice—to belong to a beggar. It looks like she intentionally destroyed a high quality cloak to make it look like she was a commoner like me.

"I read your letter easily enough."

The stranger's shoulders slumped as the thrill of the game dissipated. She yanked the cloak back over her head, pouting at Guren with plump lips.

"No fair." Her lilting whine caused Guren's chest to constrict reflexively at the familiarity.

It had been a long time since he heard her voice.

"Lady Mahiru."

She fluffed her ashen hair, fanning it out to fall delicately across her shoulders. Her glinting eyes landed on Guren like a hungry hawk.

"You don't have to be so formal, Guren. Don't you remember how close we used to be?"

"We were six," Guren countered with a dry scoff. Now that Mahiru had finally revealed herself, he returned his gaze back to the poster. "Hardly more than playdates."

He could feel her curious stare boring into the side of his head, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Surely you know that's not true."

He didn't respond, but instead scratched at a piece of dirt on his cheek.

With an indescribable sigh, Mahiru stepped closer to Guren, intentionally brushing her fingertips against his thin sleeve. Out of his periphery, he watched her angle her head towards the announcement, a cold frown rising across her lips.

She hated the prince. She wanted him dead.

She's definitely the one who invited me here. I know what she wants…but why?

"Why do you wa—"

Mahiru interrupted him with a flirtatious smile, tapping the tip of her nose with a lithe finger.

"Now, now. You know we can't be discussing sedition on the front steps of the castle. Ears are everywhere." Her eyebrows tilted upwards, as did the corner of her pressed lips. Guren narrowed his eyes, caught off-guard by her blatantly amused attitude to the notion of high treason.

She isn't the same.

Guren had had his suspicions when he received the letter a month ago, but her tilting, jagged motions and carefree laughter confirmed his concerns.

There's something off about her now.

"We can discuss this more later," she continued. "Somewhere where we won't be overheard." A soft, sweet smile grew across her lips. "I think you know where I'm talking about."

Guren's gut clenched subconsciously at the painful reminder of more peaceful, innocent times. A grassy field, rows of wild flowers.

Mahiru studied his face for a few beats of silence, her burnt honey eyes ravenously consuming his features. She opened her mouth to say something, but Guren turned away, forcing his pounding heart back into a normal rhythm.

I can't let her get to me. Not again.

"I'll meet you at sunset.

Although he didn't want to admit it out loud, Guren felt a bit rattled by his reunion with Mahiru. When he first got the letter, unsigned with no indicator of the addresser's identity apart from a childhood nickname tossed in the opening, Guren immediately realized it was from Mahiru. The confident bragging of her infallible plan and her remorseless request reminded him so undeniably of Mahiru, even after ten years of separation.

From her letter, he could tell something was different. Her scrawl seemed too tight, too angry to be sanely controlled. Still, he couldn't deny his curiosity and his muted feelings as he committed the crown prince's features to memory before destroying the evidence in fire.

After speaking to Mahiru, even for a brief moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake in returning. She had offered no explanation either time for why she wanted her fiancé dead. As far as he knew, she could have simply grown bored of the little prince and decided to yank Guren back through the memories for her malicious pleasure.

It would be like her to do that too, Guren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and releasing a hoarse laugh. Forcing me to do her dirty work.

Like a lovelorn hunting dog, he came when his mistress called. He was just as pathetic.

Determined to be at least half of a step ahead of Mahiru's vindictive plan, he decided to collect his own intelligence on the crown prince.

For someone in such a dangerous position, the prince shouldn't come and go with such a dramatic fanfare, Guren observed dryly, watching the covered procession pass by his shadowy overhang.

It would be so easy to kill him now while he's exposed. Guren caught a flash of silver before the silken curtain concealed a face at the window. His fingers hovered over his hidden pocket, concealing an equally sharp piece of silver.

I don't know what the Hiiragis think they're doing.

He considered the blade in his pocket and the promised bounty from Mahiru's letter.

Or maybe they know exactly what they're doing.

Guren took a deep breath before darting out in front of the crown prince's carriage. He felt the front wheel clip his side and he tumbled backwards, releasing a pitiful cry as he fell to the dusty ground. He quickly tucked his knees to his chest in case the driver decided to back up and finish the deed.

"Wait! Stop!"

Guren squinted towards the youthful voice, blinded by the sunlight striking the glittering sides of the carriage. The carriage slowed to a grating stop, accompanied by the impatient whinnying and stomping of the horses. The silken curtain fluttered back before the door popped open, casting Guren back into the shadows.

"Lord Shinya-! Come back!"

Guren looked up, meeting the wide blue eyes of the crown prince, staring down at him from the threshold of the carriage door. His lips were pursed in a disinterested frown, though Guren could see his gaze roam over him, checking for any significant signs of injury. When he found none, his stare darted back to Guren's eyes. The corners of his lips flicked up slightly, but immediately disappeared when movement inside the carriage heralded a second observer.

"Lord Shinya! Get back before the pea—"

The crown prince broke his solemn staring contest with Guren before glancing over his shoulder, offering a small, polite smile to whomever was inside.

"I assure you everything is fine, Miss Aiuchi."

Shinya tilted his head back towards Guren and stepped off the carriage ladder. He squatted in front of him, hovering a few inches above Guren's inky eyebrows to maintain a height imbalance.

"Are you injured?"

Guren pulled himself into a sitting position, emphasizing his injured leg by dragging it limply after him. The pain was nothing, but he knew he needed to play it up as much as possible to elicit either the Hiiragi pity or rage. He offered no answer apart from a diverted gaze. He wanted to leave as much up to the prince's interpretation as possible.

"Is that how you greet the Hiiragi family?" An unpleasant looking teenager appeared over the crown prince's shoulder, lifting up his protruding lip in a snarl. "You're getting dust on my boot, you filthy mongrel!" An idea struck the older teen and his dark eyes lit up with a cruel glee.

He must be one of the real Hiiragis. I'd recognize those dead eyes anywhere.

"Why don't you clean them for me?" The dark haired teen shoved his boot in Guren's direction, pressing heavily against his chest before pushing him down. Guren feigned pain, releasing a tiny gasp. He could sense the crowd around him, pulsing and receding with interest. It wasn't every day that the Hiiragi princes graced their presence. This extended interaction would be the talk of the town for a week.

Guren glanced back to Shinya's blankly schooled expression.

Well, he didn't try to stop his idiot companion, but he isn't hurting things either.

He seems rather…ineffectual.

"Seishirou—" Shinya interrupted, an indescribable expression flickering across his features. Guren couldn't figure out if he was truly useless or faking it.

Seishirou paused mid-stomp before sending a sour glance in Shinya's direction. "Don't tell me you're going to stick up for this filthy mongrel!"

Shinya's smile turned strained as he tilted his head towards Seishirou. "If I were you, I wouldn't get too close, otherwise you might catch his fleas. Who knows what pests grow on swine."

Seishirou jerked his foot back with another disgusted cry. "You're absolutely right." He shot Guren another affronted glare before darting back to the carriage.

Interesting… He's practically trained. I have found the Hiiragi dog, it seems. His gaze shifted back to Shinya, who straightened up with a stiff groan.

But what are you?

"I'm surprised you got hit," he laughed, crinkling his blue eyes in amusement. "The horses should have smelled you a town away!" He fished in his pockets for something before tossing a shimmering coin towards Guren.

"Here, the Hiiragi family begs you to take a bath."

Guren caught the piece with a nimble catch and curled his grimy fingers to hide the value from the curious crowd.

Shinya opened his mouth to say something else before an impatient shouting erupted from the carriage's interior. Moving his bright gaze over Guren, he smiled and waved at the cheering crowd before disappearing within the carriage. With a crack of the whip, the horses set off again and Guren pulled his legs back quickly to prevent any further injury.

Behind him, the crowd erupted into hushed gossip.

"So handsome! So merciful!"

"Such a generous boy!"

"Fine choice for the crown prince!"

Strong hands grabbed Guren's shoulders and hoisted him to his feet. He jerked his head to the side in time to catch his helper wink at him.

"Yer lucky it was the crown prince who hit ya." Guren tilted his head, waiting for the man to continue. "The other Lords woulda told the driver to back up and hit ya again."

Guren glanced down at the coin clenched in his sweaty palm. It was a new gold piece, freshly pressed with the Hiiragi crest.

He could afford to rent an entire bathhouse for the night with this much money, much less purchase a single bath. Hell, he could afford to buy a bath in the royal palace.

Guren smiled, tucking the coin close to his chest.

That actually isn't a bad idea…

Thanks for reading! See you in two months!