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Flowers of Illusion	By : alienchrist Category: +G to L > Last Exile Views: 1247 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 1-Flowers of Illusion
- 1
”What is Dio to you, Luciola?”

“Lord Dio… is my friend.”

Luciola bowed his head and closed his eyes. Beneath his eyelids he saw a kaleidoscope of colors fluttering like flower petals. He could recall each moment with startling clarity, clear and vivid as the pattern of a stained-glass window. The pain was excruciating for a moment, as the cells in Luciola’s body seemed to light on fire and disintegrate. That last word, “friend,” remained on his lips, a word that Delphine did not have the power to erase from her throne room.

Part 1

Send off the flowers of illusion with a song saying this world is beautiful
You say it’s a foolish dream and seem to laugh in amusement

Give the flowers of illusion a song saying this world is in full bloom
You say it’s a silly dream and seem to laugh happily

With just one sweet fruit the truth will soon be seen
And then the flowers...the flowers will spread

--BUCK-TICK, “Gensou no Hana (Flowers of Illusion)”, trans. by sparklingai

Luciola became aware of the aberrant feelings when he was twelve years old. Guilders of Dio’s status had several attendants for tasks like baths. One to provide towels, another to shampoo hair and scrub the back, yet another to buff and trim nails. Finally, there was one tasked bring the little scion any sweets he may like during the bath. That day, though, Dio sent all of them away.

“I don’t need so many just for a bath! I can bathe myself! Luciola will help me in and out of the tub.”

So it was that Luciola prepared the bath with its mixture of soaps and conditioners. He moved to pour in a bowl of rose petals when he spotted Dio poking his head in the door. “Stop right there!” he said. “I don’t want those.”

“But they’re rose petals for your bath, Lord Dio,” Luciola stammered. “Your sister prefers you to smell of them.”

“I don’t feel like roses today,” Dio quipped, slipping in the door. He surveyed the large sunken bath with its swirling waters. “Can’t we put something else in? Like keresian mousse? Wouldn’t that be fun, to swim around in mousse?” Dio laughed.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Luciola sighed, setting the rose petals aside. He didn’t want to disobey Delphine’s orders, but Dio’s expression was so charming when was overtaken by a scheme that Luciola couldn’t do anything but as he asked.

“I suppose I’d get rather sticky,” Dio agreed. He started tugging at his collar, attempting to pull his robe over his head.

Attending Dio had taught Luciola to be quick on his feet, and as such, he snatched the slightly-younger boy away from the edge of the bath. “Arms up,” he instructed.

Dio obeyed. Luciola slipped the garment up over his head, and folded it neatly. He set it aside to be laundered later. Dio watched him, tilting his head. “Can you teach me to do that?”

“Fold your clothes? Lord Dio, that is not a necessary skill for you to--”

Already onto the next subject, Dio said, “You forgot something!” He pointed to the simple black band holding the pigtail on the left side of his hair in place.

“Forgive me, Lord Dio,” Luciola mumbled, and carefully pulled his hair free.

“Thank you!” Dio took off at a run. As effortlessly as a rainbird ducking between the clouds, he dove into the bath.

Luciola caught a glimpse of Dio’s delicate frame as he rose from the water. Dio shook his hair, sending droplets of water everywhere that caught the light from the stained glass windows. He admired the movement of color and light, lifting up handfuls of water and allow them to pour through his fingers.

“Look, Luciola! Look, it’s magic!”

Luciola observed his friend. His milk pale skin gleamed like polished metal. His laughter echoed more musically than any of the Maestro’s appointed musicians. He seemed made of light and silver, of softness and laughter.

It was in that moment that he first felt the aberrant emotion. It struck deep and sharp in Luciola’s chest, like a harp being suddenly plucked and left to vibrate: a beautiful and terrible note.

“Come, don’t splash around,” Luciola said. “Get a little closer, and I shall wash your hair.”

Sometimes, Dio’s behavior greatly angered Luciola. He never once scolded Luciola, even if he spilled tea. He never threw dishes, or asked Luciola to fetch frivolous things he no longer wanted a moment later. Even when Luciola dabbed stinging balm on the cuts and bruises left by Delphine, Dio never snapped at him. It was hard to remain angry at his charge, but Luciola often wished Lord Dio would treat him more like a servant. Years of strict training prepared Luciola for the honor of one day serving the Elaclaire household. It did not prepare him for arms thrown around him. It did not prepare him for words of thanks. It did not prepare him for Dio’s whisper in the night, even after many years together.

“Are you awake?”

“Now I am.” Luciola shifted on his mat on the floor. It was simple and serviceable. He did not mind sleeping on the ground near Dio’s door. If an assassin were to slip in the night, Luciola would be the first to know.

“I can’t sleep.”

Luciola sat up. The palace in the Grand Stream knew no real nighttime, but the tall windows became shrouded at certain hours, the many lights dimmed. Thus, there was no true darkness in Dio’s quarters – more of a shadowy lack of light. Luciola could see Dio’s wide blue eyes clearly, as well as the tiny white bandages dotting his cheek and arms.

“Bad dreams, again,” Luciola concluded. “Do you require a bed-time story?”

“Come sleep in my bed, then it won’t feel all big and lonely and cold.”

“As I’ve told you nearly a hundred times, it is not appropriate.”

Dio pouted. “You’re no fun.” He did not throw a fit. He did not order Luciola into his bed. Just curled up on his side on the bed, bunching up the covers all around him.

Luciola gave a heavy sigh and slipped into bed beside his charge. Dio made a soft noise of excitement and wrapped his arms tightly around Luciola, absorbing his heat.

“You should sleep here from now on,” Dio murmured into Luciola’s short-cropped hair. It was as close to an order as Dio ever gave. Luciola made sure to follow it. He never again slept on the floor. The strange vibration in his heart sounded again. Every night, as he lay passive in Dio’s clinging embrace, the vibration continued. Whether it sang praise or warning, Luciola did not care to know.

It was quite by accident that Luciola discovered Dio masturbated. Perhaps it was not unexpected, since Luciola was the only servant Dio allowed to attend him. They spent nearly every moment of the day together, except for when Maestro Delphine demanded her cute little brother.

At thirteen, Dio was as bright and vivacious as ever. His body was undergoing many changes. He seemed every bit as lovely to Luciola as his body matured. Now he happened upon a scene that proved just how mature Dio was becoming.

Luciola stood prostrate with a vase of roses in his hands. Gifts from Delphine that would upset Dio, he was almost glad that the boy was so absorbed in his task. A fetching flush colored his features, his brow dampened with sweat. Dio lay with his robes unbuttoned, ferociously working over his member with rapid flicks of his wrist.

Luciola set the bouquet down and lay with Dio on the bed, as if it were time to sleep. Dio gave Luciola a sheepish look. Rare was the event that made Dio even slightly embarrassed. The expression was endearing.

“It felt good,” he explained. “You don’t have to stay while I do this.”

“Lord Dio,” said Luciola, stopping Dio’s movement with a touch to his hand. “How many times must I tell you? You should not do for yourself what I am here to do for you.”

“Luciola…”

The servant slipped downward. Luciola slowly ran his tongue up Dio’s length. The boy was as confused as he was delicious.

It was like nothing Luciola had ever done before. Training had mentioned this sort of decadence, but he never imagined he would offer it to Lord Dio. He lathed attention over Dio’s hardness, eventually lowering his entire mouth over it. Dio gasped, fingers searching for a grip in Luciola’s short hair. His hips moved of their own volition, and that is how he finished. His gasps echoed off the high ceiling and he came hard into Luciola’s mouth.

Polite as he was, Luciola didn’t let a single drop spill. He watched Dio’s eyes drift shut, long lashes casting shadows on his porcelain cheeks. His breathing grew slow and even. Satisfied, Luciola climbed off the bed, and returned to his task of arranging the flowers.

That evening, as Dio toweled off from his bath, Luciola couldn’t help but notice his erection, tucked against his thigh. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of Dio with a murmur of, “Allow me to take care of this.”

He did. Dio’s fingers were in his hair again, and the force of his orgasm was so strong he nearly fell over. This time, though, Dio did not fall asleep. He studied Luciola’s expression, as if they were playing chess together.

One of Dio’s few standing orders was that Luciola never allow him to simply win at chess. A brilliant tactician, he simply didn’t want to get soft because his servant indulged him.

After careful consideration, Dio made his move. He crouched next to Luciola, licking his cheek softly. “Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Lord Dio, it is hardly appropriate.”

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to find out!” Dio surmised cheerfully. He pushed Luciola’s shoulders back so he was laying forward. The smirk on his face was the same as playing chess. Dio loved being challenged and hated backing down. Luciola quickly decided that this was the time and place to submit.

What a pleasurable submission it was. How strange, to have their positions reversed. Luciola found himself glad for Dio’s longer, silken strands. His fingers knotted in them, didn’t let go. Ever composed, his rapture was quiet but intense.

Far less mannered than the servant class, Dio both choked and made a mess when faced with Luciola’s spendings. He coughed, and white splattered on the marble floor. Stickiness clung to Dio’s lips and tongue.

Luciola rose first to retrieve a towel. Dio took it gratefully, wiping his face. Luciola watched him, afraid to speak. Could his lord be angry at him for the presumption, for doing something so unpleasant?

Once cleaned, Dio handed Luciola the towel and stood. Then, he threw his arms around Luciola as usual.

“That was fun! Let’s do it again!”

Luciola hated to shatter his charge’s mood. He wanted more than anything to say yes, to spend many hours in Dio’s bed, learning all kinds of things. However, reality called, and the Maestro’s word still stood above all else.

“Not now. Your sister requires your presence for dinner.”

Just like that, all the light drained from Dio. He nodded once, and Luciola fetched him a fresh robe. The note resounded just below Luciola’s breastbone. Every time his skin touched Dio’s, it rang without fail and never once faded.

They passed many years in that way. It seemed that this method of sexual relief was one more game to Dio, like flying or playing chess. Dio seemed content in their idle days, and so Luciola was as well. He grew accustomed to that strange song to his heart; so much he did not notice it much.

The year his seventeenth birthday approached, and the song suddenly changed key. Those of the serving class weren’t beholden to the Rite of the Covenant, but they participated in the Birth Week. The mark on his forehead blossomed. The inescapable brand marked him as a high servant to the Elaclaires, his level only surpassed by his brother Cicada, who was both a high servant and the captain of Maestro Delphine’s personal assassins. This was an honorable feat and a coup for their bloodline, but this was not something Luciola was concerned with. He was pleased, though. The dedication meant he could remain at Dio’s side as his attendant and navi, so long as Maestro Delphine always wished it so.

As a child, Luciola often heard whispers about the Birth Week celebrations. Common folk gossiped that the cleansing process removed a person’s will to fly, removed all identity except the will to serve Delphine. To turn seventeen and become an adult was a source of pride and honor, but behind closed doors, it was something the youth of the Guild feared immensely.

Unlike his charge, Luciola was not prone to outbursts of fear or sadness. Still, his steps were weighted as Cicada and another servant led him to cleansing chamber. He wondered if he would lose that precious, bittersweet hum; the forbidden, unexplained emotion he experienced whenever he looked upon Lord Dio. As a servant, it was wrong of him to desire anything for himself. But he found he did not want to lose this emotion. Let him lose his piloting skills, his martial art training, each etiquette and protocol of the Guild. He did not want to lose Lord Dio’s resonance within his heart. To consider it overtook his heart with desperation.

These musings were interrupted by the sound of frantic running echoing down the hall. Luciola heard Dio before he saw him: “Luciola!” he called.

The march continued. Luciola was grateful he was not nobility, not expected to undergo the Trial of Agoon to satisfy Maestro Delphine’s eternal need for amusement. That meant they had no audience as Dio caught up with them. He threw himself between Luciola and the claudia blue glow of the cleansing machine.

“Lord Dio, I will tell your sister if you interfere,” Cicada hissed in warning.

“You dare speak to me this manner?” Dio narrowed his eyes. Even as a brat a year from his Birth Week, as an Elaclaire, his stature was far higher than Cicada’s. Further, all he would have to do is feign tears to get Cicada in trouble with his sister. It was easy for Luciola to forget Dio was aristocracy, but occasionally his cunning and manipulation emerged in order for him to get his way. “Luciola is my servant. I happen to enjoy his current demeanor, and wish it to remain this way. Retraining him would be a waste of my time, as he is already perfectly subservient. Unless you have the order direct from Delphine, you have no precedent to put him through the cleanser. Deliver my servant to me.”

Luciola felt Cicada’s grip on his arm tighten and then let go. The heaviness of his limbs retreated with the appearance of Dio’s smile.

“Let’s get out of here, Luciola. This place gives me the creeps!”

Back in Dio’s suite, the young men tumbled into bed in a grateful heap. Dio wound possessive arms around Luciola. He lapped at Luciola’s neck, and despite himself, the older boy found himself responding. “Ah…”

“I hope you don’t mind I deprived you of an important aspect of the Birth Week,” said Dio after a moment.

“If this is how you wish it, sir.”

That single-note tune was a bright and soaring melody. Dio gave him a little smile. “I have an idea on how to celebrate your Birth Week.”

“Lord Dio, it is unnecessary. Only nobles…”

“Shh!” Dio grinned. “Don’t you want to know what it is? I promise you it’s good!”

Something about that grin had him just a little nervous. It was that grin that schemed. “If it should please you, Lord Dio.”

“I’m going to give you…” Dio attempted to tug his robe over his head and needed assistance.

Luciola sighed internally. “Arms up,” he instructed.

Dio obeyed. The robe came off. “As I was saying, I’m going to give you me!”

“Lord Dio?” Luciola couldn’t think of a way to communicate how perplexed the statement made him.

Dio fished through the pockets of his robe and retrieved a small crystal vial. Inside was a golden viscous fluid. “This should be pretty fun! We can make love like real adults with this.”

After what seemed like too long a time, Luciola’s brain caught up with his ears. The implication of what Dio was suggesting was staggering. For a servant to violate a noble in such a manner was more than taboo, it was blasphemous.

“Lord Dio, I’m not sure if we should…”

Dio fixed him a steady, catlike look. “If you want something, you shouldn’t say the opposite.” He ran his hand down Luciola’s chest, teasing.

Luciola nodded, running his fingers tentatively through Dio’s hair. He stroked the back of Dio’s neck, and over the delicate muscles of his bare back. Dio undressed Luciola and threw the clothes in a heap. Luciola had to fight himself not to jump to his feet and tidy the place. After a moment, Dio’s hot little mouth distracted him entirely.

They knew each other’s bodies well by now, a waltz where each step complimented other. Dio sucked Luciola, sighing in the unabashed pleasure as he stroked himself. When both seemed ready, then was the time to try things less familiar.

The liquid worked perfectly. It was warm and tingled to the touch. Rubbing the slippery substance into Dio made his muscles relax and open. Luciola tested with fingers first, wanting to be certain Dio was ready. He pushed in one finger, then another, and another. Electric pleasure shot through Luciola as Dio rolled his hips, pushed onto those fingers, hungry for more. How impudently unlike him to be so demanding.

Even knowing it was far more of an honor than he deserved, Luciola could not wait a moment longer, let alone resist in any manner. Dio wrapped his legs and arms around him. Luciola pushed in and let go.

They lasted longer than Luciola thought they would. It seemed every moment that he couldn’t take more, Dio would squeeze him from within, or give a whimper that just pushed him that much further.

At least he was not so selfish as to let go first. Luciola was an attentive lover, and only as Dio knew the throes of did Luciola allow himself release. He was glad to, though, to watch an entirely different kind of joy blossom on Dio’s face.

Absolution was white hot, blinding pleasure, and Luciola was gone for several moments after. He gradually became aware of Dio poking his cheek and saying his name in a singsong voice.

“Luciola, hey, wake up, okay? You’re kinda heavy.”

“Lord Dio, I’m so sorry,” said Luciola immediately, pulling out and stretching out beside his charge. He saw the liquid pooling on the sheets, the clothes in a pile everywhere, and his first thought wasn’t of clothing. “I came inside, I shouldn’t have…” His face went red with shame.

“Don’t worry. I like it with you, Luciola. I like you.”

Dio cuddled up to Luciola’s side and promptly fell into a deep sleep, complete with gentle snoring. He absolutely refused to be moved, especially not to strip and clean the sheets.

Luciola decided he wouldn’t get worked up about not being able to do his job, just this once. He closed his eyes and listened to Dio’s breath and heartbeat. They formed the wind section and rhythm of a symphony in his ribcage.

In the months that Dio’s Birth Week approached, he grew increasingly restless. He often took Luciola out flying, exploring the craggy peaks of Anatoray and Dusith in all weathers, just for the fun of it. When the Guild worked itself into a froth locating Alvis Hamilton, Dio decided he would participate in the search. The quest took them to one of Anatoray’s many ruins, where one of the Guild stars was downed.

Recounting the details of the battle as relived through the evidence provided Dio with some interest for a while, but once he grew bored, he poked at corpses. Luciola knew this behavior well. Dio would run out of things to do and then fall into depression. They would need to move on just so that Dio wouldn’t succumb to despair.

Luciola called Dio over once he repaired the star’s visual replayer. Perhaps a fresh perspective on the battle would lighten Dio’s spirits.

“There’s nothing quite like a corpse, is there?” murmured Dio, hooking his arms around the taller boy. He went oddly quiet as he watched the exploits of a land-dweller boy around their age.

“Who is this?” he asked after a long moment.

That comfortable, familiar noise in Luciola’s heart suddenly went silent.
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Flowers of Illusion