Art Sales

The sun rose on the kingdom in a brilliant yellow light, casting shadows upon the cobbled streets and leaning towers that curled around the heart of the castle. Chara, second in line to the throne, untangled themselves from their luxurious bedding a breath before noon. Had they been a real heir, their tutor would have woken them earlier. As things were, however, they were allowed to do whatever they pleased and sleep as long as they wished. The maids and butlers that lined the opulently decorated halls watched with barely-masked distain. Chara could see it in the slight downward curve of their lips, the expression of a schoolteacher about to chastise a child. Nobody in this kingdom took them seriously. They would never think of treating the true heir with that kind of disrespect.

Meanwhile, the crown prince was toiling away in the heart of the castle, learning how to be a ruler. When they were younger, the two were inseparable. Chara was lead to believe that they were equals. As time passed, however, the truth became clear. He was the important one. Sure, they trotted Chara out beside him during celebrations and let them eat together at dinners, but everyone knew that the true power rested within the heir.

Nobody saw Chara as a force to be reckoned with. Instead, the public saw them as a romantic doll. Chara could see the glances thrown their way by every young hopeful who thirsted for a fortune. These suitors couldn’t possibly think that they were subtle, could they? The lust for gold was reflected in their eyes. But then there were those poor smitten fools who thought they really did care for the spare child. Those who truly thought they cared had created an image of Chara in their mind that was equal parts distant and familiar, cold and compassionate, regal and human. The real thing could never match up. Still, Chara had their fun.

They learned the weaknesses of every fly-on-the-wall romantic that came too close. Then, in the dead of night, they stole away to the villages and crept into the noble’s mansions. As second in line to the throne, they had no want in life—but it was still fun to cause a bit of chaos. When the masters of the house awoke, they would find vacancies where wealth was once displayed. The mysterious thief was the talk of the town. Though their name was never mentioned, Chara felt a strange warmth in the spotlight. Nobody knew it was them and nobody ever would, but the attention was still gratifying, though strange. The monarchs would be so impressed if they ever found out. Disappointed, of course, but still impressed. It almost made Chara want to get found out, just once, if only to see the awe on their faces.

But no. The only attention the king and queen ever bestowed upon their younger child was patronizing concern. Chara recently came of age, and they had been watched much more closely ever since. Eyes followed them from around corners as they stalked through the halls. The king had called them to their chamber to discuss something before dinner—a rare scrap of attention thrown their way.

Chara strutted into the throne room with a casual grin on their face. Stained glass fell from the high ceiling in beautiful designs, hitting the floor with a rainbow of light. “Your highness,” they drawled, dipping into a low bow. “It’s been so long since we’ve been able to just talk. How have you been?”

“All has been well, my child,” King Asgore said. His voice was a deep rumble, comforting and warm, but somehow wistful. “Has it really been so long?”

“It certainly feels like it, your highness.”

“Chara, please.” His voice was a mix of bitter regret and irritation.

“I’m sorry, father. I didn’t mean to sound so formal.”

King Asgore sighed and turned his head. A stream of pink and blue light fell on his furrowed brow. “You are no longer a child.”

“I am aware.”

“Your mother and I have been talking, and we have come to a decision.” The great king took a deep breath and drew himself up. “It is time for you to find someone and settle down.” Shock slammed the air out of Chara’s lungs.

“I beg your pardon?” they sputtered. “Now? I mean—already?”

“Ideally, it will be an heir from another wind kingdom, but we will not be picky. Whoever you chose to love will be welcomed into our family. They could even be a peasant.”

“It’s not for political reasons? Then what’s the point of me marrying at all?”

“Companionship, Chara,” Asgore sighed. “Love is…pure, and transformative. I don’t know who I would be without your mother.”

“I think you’re giving love a bit more credit than is due,” Chara said.

“Please. Just try to find someone.”

Chara looked up at their father. There was more emotion on his face than Chara could ever remember being directed at them. “Of course I will, father.”

The tension drained from King Asgore’s expression. A calm smile spread across his face as he said, “Thank you, my child.”

Behind them, the doors had been closed, but it apparently hadn’t been enough to block their conversation from listening ears. Rumors spread and within days, Chara became even more of a hot-topic on-the-market item than they already were. The crown prince had snaked his way out of it. He told the king that he wanted to wait until the kingdom was more prosperous. It was already plenty prosperous, of course. Chara knew that he just wanted to avoid marriage.

With every passing week, King Asgore lost a little more hope that Chara would even put forth the effort to find someone compatible. The queen was far subtler. She leaned over to her husband and whispered, give it time and it will happen, then turned around and interfered herself. Queen Toriel was an excellent hostess. Her balls were thrown to seem as if they had come straight from a fairy-tale. The royal family was required to be present at each one—including, of course, Chara. The queen was throwing balls with surprising frequency that year. She watched with a hawk-like gaze as Chara flitted from person to person, charming them and leaving them. Gradually, she began to lose hope as well.

Meanwhile, Chara was calculating. They had hoped that they would be able to continue with idle flirtations for another year or so. Clearly, this was not the case. This entire situation was unpleasant, to be sure, but it also presented an opportunity.

“I won’t be able to find my match here,” they said. The king’s face fell.

“Chara, you promised—”

“I promised I would try, yes, I know, and I have been.”

“My child, don’t you think you’re giving up prematurely?” the queen said gently.

“Well, actually, I’m not giving up.” Chara looked up at their parents with a carefully constructed expression of desperation. “I won’t give up until I find them. So, I was thinking, perhaps I could look elsewhere.”

“How far elsewhere?” the queen asked.

“Somewhere outside of our sphere of influence.” To their expressions of uncertainty, Chara continued, “I want a gentle soul. Someone kind and genuine. I can’t do that here, where nobody can think of me without thinking of my status as well. Besides, we are a wind kingdom. It’s natural that I should want to travel.”

“That…makes sense,” the king said slowly.

“Perfect. I want to leave quietly. In two days, perhaps?”

The queen let out a harsh and sudden laugh. “So soon?”

“Please, mother. I’m tired of being alone,” Chara said, voice faltering. Her expression softened and she reluctantly nodded. Two days later, they were on their way.

A fortune of gold hung heavy in a bag slung around their waist as they flew directly to the realm of the Lightweaver. Knowledge, they knew, was an advantage in life. It was power in the form of thought. The crown prince had the best tutors in Sornieth at his fingertips, but he never left the sheltered walls of their kingdom. Here, Chara had an advantage.

They had expected libraries to be the main source of learning, but lecture halls were far more common. Experts from various fields flew in to offer their knowledge, then vanished the next day. Chara rented out a small room at a nearby hotel for two months in advance and began to attend every lecture that they could.

Politics is no more than a social game. Chara knew it well. They practiced their smiles and quips on innocent scholars, networking and playing in equal turns. Their face became a familiar and welcome one in the halls. Strangely enough, many of them knew that they were the heir to a mid-sized kingdom, but very few seemed to care. After all, the halls of the Sunbeam Ruins drew in all sorts of dragons. One prince in the bright landscape changed nothing.

But there were, of course, still those romantics. Abaddon was the closest thing Chara had found to a companion. He had sat himself down next to Chara completely by chance, then immediately got sucked into their orbit. Now, he walked with them to lectures, offered book recommendations, and kept Chara updated on local gossip. Chara let him do as he pleased; after all, he was useful.

One day, Abaddon was regaling some dramatic story of betrayal between a couple they knew while Chara read a letter from their parents. As the weeks had passed, their letters had become more curious—or perhaps a better term is ‘intrusive’. They had begun to suspect that Chara wasn’t keeping a keen enough eye out for a potential spouse.

“She’s an awful girl, I’ll admit, but they balanced each other out well. It really did end on a tragic note, didn’t it?” Abaddon sighed.

“Mm-hm.”

“Sometimes I fear love is some great ruse that we all play at out of fear of solitude. Every time, we tell ourselves it’s different, but no romance ends without heartbreak—even if that heartbreak only comes death. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“It really is a puzzle,” Chara said, eyes still glued to the letter.

“But we can’t really help ourselves, can we? The soul cleaves to its companion, even when the mind protests.”

“A tragedy.”

“Of sorts. But it does feel nice, though, doesn’t it? To love.” Abaddon’s voice was wavering. He had grown more quiet during their conversation. Chara could feel his stare. They looked up, and saw their companion sitting a hairsbreadth closer than usual with an expression of near yearning on his face.

“I don’t know the feeling,” Chara said. They leaned in to brush their nose with Abaddon’s. “It sounds terrible.”

“It is.”

The attention was nice. Though they loathed to admit it, the spotlight had not often been kind to them. Abaddon was soft with his affection, tentative and near worshipping. The decreased rent that came with moving in to his little house wasn’t bad, either.

Queen Toriel sent a letter almost every other day now. Chara made the mistake of telling her about Abaddon, and now she spoke of nothing more than their return—with him in tow, of course—but Chara hadn’t yet breached the subject. They weren’t even sure if they wanted to.

Love was a foreign beast. It was intimacy and vulnerability in a sweet sugar wrapping, and Chara felt as inclined to toy with it as they were to jump headfirst into a volcano. Abaddon was a good solution. He loved with no hope of his feelings being returned; instead, he was content to merely be near Chara. Though he had a rigid personal moral code, he didn’t respond negatively to any of Chara’s antics. Most were just met with a fond laugh. He listened to Chara’s degrading stories of their family and found it endearing.

The sun ached over the sky and poured light into the living room. Chara was reading and rereading the letter of the day as Abaddon prepared breakfast.

“You look a bit distressed, love,” he said, voice still bleary with sleep. “Is that another letter?” Chara gave him a short nod.

“It’s my mother.”

“They want you home, don’t they?” He sounded defeated. Chara’s stomach flipped. It was now or never.

“Yes.”

“Well, I knew that was coming.” Abaddon chuckled sadly. “For what it’s worth, it’s been—”

“They want you to come back with me,” Chara said. The room was suddenly silent—painfully so. Abaddon looked at them with an expression of pure shock. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t responding. He should have been ecstatic. What was the issue? Chara swallowed hard and began to babble. “My father, in particular, is excited to meet you. Not that my mother isn’t, but she’s always been more protective. She’ll like you, though. She loves scholarly types. I haven’t heard from my brother yet, but I don’t care much what he thinks. He could hate you, for all I care. Wouldn’t change a thing. I would prefer it, actually. Unfortunately, I think you’re just the kind of person he loves. He’s a bit of a weakling, emotions-wise. Like you. So.” Another pause.

“So?”

“So…do you want to come?”

Abaddon laughed. “Chara, if this means I get to spend more time with you, I’d fly directly into the Wyrmwound.”

“That’s a bit pathetic. You realize that this is practically a marriage proposal?”

“That’s why I’m so pleased.”

“Even with how I feel?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, that’s a bit very pathetic.”

Abaddon laughed again, delight seeping in. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe—I can’t believe. I can’t believe I would do this.” He brushed his cheek against Chara’s. “I love you, you know. Quite a lot.”

Chara hummed and leaned into the touch. “The feeling is not returned, I’m afraid.”

“I know.”

Their return was met with an unwarranted amount of fanfare, in Chara’s opinion. Perhaps part of it was due to the fact that spring was at its peak and the flowers were in full bloom. It would explain all the petals being thrown everywhere, at least.

At the top of the staircase, the royal family stood tall and proud. The crown prince was practically vibrating with excitement, standing between his parents with a grin stretched across his face. Queen Toriel was softer in her happiness. She wore a soft smile and a lovely formal dress. King Asgore was more like his son, though he was trying desperately to appear unperturbed. Chara stifled the urge to roll their eyes. They had not missed this circus.

The new royal couple was ushered inside. Inside the castle, the decorations were just as opulent and floral as they were on the outside.

“Abaddon, right?” the crown prince said, leaping forward to introduce himself. “Welcome to our family. And I’m sure you already know my name!”

Abaddon coughed awkwardly. “Of course,” he said, and Chara chuckled. They had never mentioned their brother’s name. It was just another piece of the power struggle. Abaddon looked at them with such a pathetic desperation, though, they decided to show mercy.

“It’s good to see you again, Asriel,” Chara said with a formal bow.

“Ah—you don’t have to bow to me! I’m still your brother,” Asriel pouted.

“King Asgore, Queen Toriel,” Abaddon said, dipping his head low. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Asgore’s calm façade finally burst in a deep laugh. “You don’t have to bow either. You’re practically part of the family, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t—?” Chara started, but the queen cut in before they could finish.

“So, you’re a scholar, are you?” she said.

“Yes. I’m particularly interested in the study of modern political structures. It’s interesting to see how different kingdoms, towns, and tribes deal with the shifting alliances of their flight as well as internal conflict,” Abaddon responded. This was a lie, and Chara knew it. He studied art history more passionately than anything else, not political science. Toriel beamed and began to chatter excitedly, and Chara suddenly realized what Abaddon had done.

The day passed in a flurry of motion. Introductions, dinner, and discussions of the future took up the remaining hours of the day. When they at last had a moment alone, Chara whispered, “I saw what you did. With my mother, and with all the others.”

“Are you accusing me of brown-nosing?” Abaddon laughed. “A bit tame compared to what you’ve done, isn’t it?”

“I’m not accusing. I’m…glad. Impressed,” Chara said. “I was afraid you would embarrass me, but you didn’t. You did well.”

Abaddon glowed with happiness.

It was only a week before the marriage date was set. Their parents were dead-set and Abaddon was infatuated, so Chara saw no reason to put it off. As the day came closer, however, they grew nervous.

“We can put off the date,” Abaddon said. Chara paced the room.

“If we put it off, then I’ll never do it.”

“Oh,” he said. “Then I’d rather we didn’t put it off.”

“This won’t change anything.”

“It will change some things, Chara.”

“It won’t make me love you.”

“I know.” Abaddon paused. “I want you to be happy, Chara. I do.”

“But?”

“But, it would be nice if you would…pretend, once in a while. Pretend to like me.”

“I do like you. I just don’t love you.”

“Then act like it,” he snapped. Chara stopped his pacing and turned to see Abaddon, shocked by his own outburst, shrinking back.

“You want me to lie to you, as well?” Chara spat. “I’ve tried to be honest. I’ve tried to give you that respect. But you want to be just like the others.”

“No, I—”

“I heard you,” they said, and stormed out of the room.

The words stuck with them, even as they tried to forget. They didn’t suddenly become kind, of course, but Abaddon could notice a bit more effort being offered. Chara was just a touch more affectionate.

On the day of the wedding, they even smiled.

Months passed. Chara enjoyed the attention of the kingdom and their family, even though they had to share it with their—husband. How odd. Sometimes, they woke up and wondered how they had gotten into this situation.

Abaddon had become more familiar than anyone else in their life. It was startling that he seemed to understand so much about who they were and how they thought. He didn’t mind that Chara lacked compassion on even the most basic levels. He didn’t ask for any more than Chara was willing to give. Among the castle’s strategists and scholars, he found his own life to live parallel to Chara’s. Once, they had been afraid that some faceless lover would only get in their way, but Abaddon changed very little in their life. The only difference was that their parents were happier—and there was a warm body to come home to. Chara tried not to get used to it. Romance always ended in heartbreak. Wasn’t that what he said?

Every Sunday evening, the queen would sit with the two of them in the garden and have long conversations and slow sips of tea. Chara loathed the attention she gave him so freely. They had worked all their lives for it, and Abaddon effortlessly gained her love in a matter of weeks. Sometimes, if they were really irritated, they would tell stories just to break her opinion of him.

“Abaddon had a dark past, you know,” they said, taking a drink of their tea. “He used to be quite the thief.”

Toriel chuckled nervously. “That so?”

“Well, after my parents died, I didn’t have much choice. I was trying to help my older sister provide for me,” Abaddon said, and the queen’s expression fell.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured. “Where is your sister now?”

“I got caught once. She took the fall for me, and the police took her away,” he said, staring at the distant flowers shuddering in the breeze. “I don’t know where she is. Maybe still be in jail.” Toriel made a wilted sound.

Chara only scowled. Why did he have to act so tragic all the time?

They had, at least, one last outlet for their frustrations. The houses of the nobles were still woefully unguarded. Chara slipped in whenever they could, just for the thrill of it. Sometimes, they brought back trophies for Abaddon. He would simply smile and put them away in some drawer. He knew where they were from.

It was only a matter of time before things turned sour. Chara had thought they were alone, but the footsteps coming nearer and nearer to the door said otherwise. They panicked and reached for something, anything, to defend themselves. The door opened to reveal a very startled maid. Chara bared their teeth and charged.

Police and gossips alike had their hands full the next few days. The series of thefts which had grown more and more intense in the previous months had suddenly come to a head, in an inevitable yet horrible slaughter that came from within the comforts of the wealthy. In short, there had been a murder. As far as Chara knew, there were no suspects. They tried their best to seem unaffected, but this was definitely new. Someone had died at their hands.

“Are you alright?” Toriel asked one Sunday evening. “You seem a bit shaken, Chara.”

“I’m fine, it’s just…with all the crime on the street, I’m worried about Abaddon.”

“Darling, I’m fine,” Abaddon chuckled.

“I know, but you take those walks at night and I—I’m worried about you,” Chara lied. Tears pricked at the corner of their eyes, half-forced and half-anxiety.

“Walks?” Toriel echoed. “I didn’t know you took late-night walks. Why do you do that, Abaddon?”

Abaddon looked blankly forward. There was some emotion on his face that made Chara wince with a sudden pang of guilt. “I don’t know,” he swallowed. “I guess I just want to see the kingdom. It’s so beautiful at night.” Toriel hummed and narrowed her eyes. Fear. The feeling on Abaddon’s face was fear. He looked at Chara like a man drowning, reaching towards a rope to saftey. Chara gave him a reassuring smile.

“I want you safe,” they said, and Abaddon exhaled with relief.

Their interactions became more stiff. While on a walk, Abaddon threw glances that were more concerned than affectionate. Eventually, Chara had enough.

“What is it,” they snapped.

“What is what, darling?”

“Don’t play dumb. There’s something on your mind.”

Abaddon sighed. “You know that story I told the queen? About my sister?”

“Oh, yes. That was a charming pity party. Was it true?”

“No.” He looked down. “She went to jail for me, but it wasn’t willingly. I’ve been thinking…if I would do that again.” Chara’s blood ran cold.

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you did.”

“And? What of it?” Chara scoffed. “It was just some stupid maid, and she shouldn’t have been snooping anyway.”

“Chara, stop. I’m not—I’m not going to say it was right. I’m not going to say that it’s alright. But—”

“I panicked, Abaddon. I thought she was going to attack me. It was self-defense, can’t you see that? Would you rather I got hurt? Don’t you love me?”

“I do, and that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Oh, but now, you’re going to just let them drag me away to some musty old jail and die there, aren’t you? You belong in that jail; you should have been there instead of your sister! I belong here, in the palace. I’m second to the throne! I don’t deserve to rot,” Chara sobbed.

“Chara, wait, please listen.” Abaddon took a deep breath. “I’m going to take the fall for you.”

“You will?” Chara looked up through their tears. “Oh, thank you, thank you thank you thank you—”

“But you have to do everything in your power to get me out. Pull some strings, call in favors, break me out, I don’t care.” He looked Chara straight in the eyes. “Once I get out, you have to let me leave.”

“You want to leave?” Chara said hoarsely. “You want to leave me?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do. I’m putting my life on the line for you, Chara, of course I love you.”

“Then why do you want to leave me?”

“Why do you care? You don’t love me, do you?” Chara paused, and Abaddon’s breath caught in his throat. “Do you?”

“No. No, I don’t. Of course I don’t.”

“Good,” Abaddon said. “Then after this, I’m leaving.”

"Alright," Chara swallowed. "Alright."