#Hello... Can anyone hear me...? It's so dark in here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chokifandom · 2 days ago

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— CHAPTER I: INCIPIO

wc: 5k [please check the masterlist for content warnings!]

a/n: oh shdhsj i’m lowkey so scared to post this bc i’m writing this after literal months of not writing... but anyway hello arknights nation i hope you’ll have me i love ebenholz mwah have a good day

masterlist

1085

alone in his room at the top of the spire, seven year old graf franz von urtica peers out of the small window with a stir in his heart. he watches the people toil in the fields, and sellers marketing their wares, until a servant whose name he had never bothered to learn finds him. “the sun is going to tan you, mein herr!” she exclaims, scampering to close the blinds. the room falls into a darkness just like his heart does after the servant leaves, shutting the door behind her.

franz does not bother lighting the candles, and so his room remains shrouded in darkness for hours after the sun dips below the horizon; he only sees light once more when a servant knocks to escort him to dinner, the light from the hallway spilling into the room and bathing it in a sombre orange glow.

he eats only what he’s been served, aware of every lethargic movement of his jaw. although there are a multitude dishes on the dining table, there is still an obvious unspoken limitation of choice. he feels eyes burning into the back of his head, burning into his scalp, burning his body whole like he is a sinner stepping into hellfire.

he had stepped out of one cage and right into another.

but young franz cannot comprehend the weight of his circumstances. all he knows is that he isn’t allowed to play outside with the other kids under the sun, that he isn’t allowed to watch the night sky full of stars, and that wherever he goes, he would be scorned for bearing the name of the most despised family in all of leithanien.

there is a knock on his door early in the morning. “come in,” he says, almost inquiringly; and in walks a little child, around his age, panting for breath as you shut the door behind you, only sighing in relief once you hear the click of the lock. “mutti won’t stop pestering me to eat my breakfast. she won’t think to look for me here because i’m not really allowed to be here.”

it is almost incredulous— franz had never before interacted with another child, let alone one of his age. he surmises that you must be the child of one of the servants. “what are you looking at me like that for?!” you are now equally as bewildered, before you remember your manners and the person before you, and clear your throat— “i– i’m sorry if i bother you, graf franz. i will leave right now, if that is what you want—”

“no, you can stay.” the corners of his lips turn upward in a smile that he is so obviously trying to conceal, and you burst into a fit of laughter.

“you look so funny! do they not let you smile?”

“stop saying such… ridiculous things!” he huffs in indignation, red tinting his cheeks, gaze averted. franz’s tone lacks the bite that nobles usually have, you think. but you also think that it maybe that he is simply still a child and so it makes sense that he wouldn’t speak the same way that all those adults do. “of course i can!”

“see!” he breaks into a toothy grin, held up completely unnaturally from wanting to prove that fact to you, the corners of his lips quivering slightly as he hopes this would be enough to quell your mocking laughter. but he was evidently wrong, as it only grows in intensity instead.

“silly graf! you’re missing one of your front teeth!”

“sh-shut up, it’s not like you aren’t!” you’re still laughing though, and even the gloomy boy in front of you can’t help but feel the smile returning to him as he hears the joyous sound escaping your lips.

“well, i think i should leave now,” you say after the both of you let the laughter die down, heaving a sigh, “i can’t hide in here forever, can i?”

“well—” he begins. “just don’t let anyone see you around here, alright?”

“yeah! i’ll come back here tomorrow, graf franz!” you reply, and you are out of the door before he can rebuke, the click of the lock sounding through the room once more. the caprinae’s face immediately falls back into one of neutrality, though his fingers can’t seem to still themselves, energy flowing through his veins like he had just been revitalised.

for all the sadness and annoyance that seven year old boy feels, he is still just that— a curious child. and so he allows you to break the rules this blatantly, and leaves the door to his bedroom unlocked at night so you can slip in at the crack of dawn. depending on your mood, you’d choose to either rudely awaken him from his slumber, or entertain yourself with the books stacked neatly upon the shelves— although they were mostly those adult books pertaining to subjects about politics, nobility and etiquette, which did not tickle your fancy.

some days, he’d wake up to find you snuggled in right beside him, snoring away without a care in the world. and then you’d leave as soon as the sun was fully up in the sky, and he wouldn’t see you again for the rest of the day, no matter how hard he looked among all the servants at mealtime, hoping to catch even a glimpse of your face.

one morning, you shake his shoulders frantically, begging him to wake up. the boy sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at you. he yawns. “what’s wrong?”

“my mutti said they wanted you gone!” you cry out, the horror of it all dawning upon you. “why do they want you gone? a-are you a bad person?”

“i’m not! i swear i am not! who wants me gone?”

“but she said that you’re the great-great-great-great-great grandson of the…” voice reducing to a whisper, you say— “the-the witch king!”

franz’s eyes go wide at the revalation, but he does not seem too shocked— but a voice resounds in his brain, and suddenly he’s struggling not to collapse under the weight of his own head. “did you not a-already know? he is one of the forebears of urtica.” seeing that the fact does little to pacify you, he hurriedly adds his defense. “but-but i’m not like him! i’d never hurt you. or anyone else.”

“oh, franz!” your arms are thrown over his shoulders, and you sob into them with all the drama of a maiden about to be left by her husband going to war. he can do nothing but awkwardly pat your back, wondering if he was doing the right thing. “i knew mutti was wrong about you! i’ll go get you some water!”

so many years, the two of you spent in the same hushed routine. your hair had grown longer, both yours and franz’s— his horns were always neatly trimmed just like they used to be years ago, and he was ever the same prim and proper boy that he had been when you first met him, while the voice in his head only got louder and louder.

one time, you barge into his room in the dead of the night, right as he teeters on the edge of slumber— you take his hand in yours and pull him out of bed and out of his room. your steps are featherlight as neither of you dare to make a sound more than you should, climbing up the stairs of the spire and hoping, praying to the golden melody that you would not be discovered by the servants still roaming the building.

the night breeze hits you as soon as you open the door to the roof. having not let go of franz’s hand yet, you pull him to the ridge and motion for him to lie down next to you.

“i’m not doing that. my clothes are going to get soiled.”

“well, it is true that the roof has turned dusty from years of not being tended to,” you pout at him. “but i think an experience of this sort is in order for you.”

“and who are you to decide that for me?” he asks.

“your friend, of course!” you laugh, somewhere between a joke and a statement. “those servants down there want nothing but for you to rot to death in your bedroom. i’m far better than them, you know it.”

friend. sometimes, he wonders if you are only bound together by circumstance. you were all that he had, and he was all that you had— confined to the solitary spire, both of you bound to your doomed fates as the puppet graf von urtica and a lowly servant child who was forbidden from disturbing the graf and his peace. you had both seen each other laugh and cry, had devastating arguments and talked about everything under the sun, just like two real friends might have.

a chuckle slips past his lips. “amuse me then, dear friend. what have they been saying about me this time?”

“oh, it’s nothing new. just the same old drivel about how they’ll poison your food or never let you meet with any of the noblewomen and their daughters so that urtica would never have an heir. about how the witch king’s legacy must absolutely not be allowed to pass down into the future.”

the sky is bleak, so bleak, completely dark and filled with gloomy clouds. it’s not a worthwhile sight by any means, but franz does not care. his heart is already beating out of his chest, adrenaline rushing through his normally calm veins. it almost makes him feel giddy; the thought of being able to stare at the night sky with you for real begins to form in the back of his mind.

“when i finally become a graf—”

“are you not already a graf, franz?” you giggle, the honorific prefixed to his name long being dropped.

“you know what i mean! anyway,” franz looks towards you as you continue to stare at the sky as you both lie next to each other on the roof of the spire— something that would have the both of you in for a huge scolding if you were found. “i’m going to depose of this godforsaken house, that nobody in this country wants anyway, and then we’ll be free to live as we please!”

would you stay until that day arrives? the question begins to form in his throat, but he never gets the chance to—

“i’m sure we will,” you finally turn, meeting his pale purple eyes, standing up and dusting yourself off. “we should head down now, my dear graf, before they go on a wild chase for you and me, after which they are sure to kick my family out of the spire for influencing the graf himself to get up to this sort of mischief.”

the two of you return quietly to his bedroom, but franz can feel it. he feels a pair of eyes burning into the back of his skull, like the ones at mealtime. a shiver runs down his spine, and his heart refuses to stop pounding against his ribcage even after he shuts the door behind him.

after that night, you never showed up in his bedroom again. graf franz von urtica is fourteen now, learning to tread the murky waters of politics and nobility. he waits in his room like he always does, but the doorknob doesn’t turn. one day turns into years, and clammy hands turn into walls. now he only wears a sombre expression, hiding the pain in his heart and building the high fortress, mincing and dressing his words in sarcasm, refusing to spare another word to anyone else in the spire that should be his.

1098

the afterglow hall stands majestic in the daylight, and franz cannot help but wince at the structure that so resembled the cursed spires built by his distant relative. though the witch king’s blood has only thinned down in his veins, it is still there; it is still an ugly part of him that he cannot deny.

franz had mostly resigned to his fate by now— he knows there are still many who covet what he has, and that there are still many more who are trying to have a tug at the strings attached to his body and his seat.

the famous infected musician by the name of william fichte czerny prepares to have his farewell concert, with musicians from all over leithanien invited to participate. a long, long line of musicians formed right outside the afterglow hall— it is only understandable, since this could very well mean a potential path to fame for everyone of them, regardless of their intentions for participating.

but franz is only here for one thing— to get herkunftschorn, the witch king, out of his mind. this is what dame strollo of vysenheim had promised to him, a ticket to freedom like no other he’s ever seen. he only needed to participate in mr. czerny’s concert, and dame strollo would pull all the other strings behind the scene to remove the voice of mundane from him.

he thinks about it as he walks towards the center of the city— the deal with dame strollo truly looked tempting. he wonders if she’s also among the people who want to use him and his status to further their own interests. but it’s an offer that’s hard to refuse— it could only mean something good for him if it worked in his favour, but to be scorned and hunted to the ends of the earth and being labelled as a remnant of the witch king if he were to outright refuse.

“but i’m really in a rush to get my application over with,” a soft, timid voice piques his interest. he stops a few feet away from the line, watching a young man try to negotiate with presumably a standing officer, his pale hair shining under the bright sun. “i’m still caring for my grandpa back home.”

“no can do. look, we’re all afterglowers. who hasn’t got someone to care for at home?”

the black haired man approaches the pair, and musters all the authority that he can in his next words. “can you really not accommodate, just this once?”

“i said no. that’s just—” the officer begins, but then she turns to look at franz, and her eyes widen; in recognition, shock, or fear, he can’t tell. “wait, y-you’re a noble, aren’t you? you’re here to apply to our concert?”

“if you see as much, then could you oblige myself and my friend here?” franz retorts.

“but we’ve got rules…”

“or do you plan to reject a noble’s sincerest request?”

“i wouldn’t dare.”

“thank you for your understanding. come, now,”

the pale haired man is evidently quite surprised by the turn of events. he questions the appropriateness of the events that just took place in front of him— after all, the officer wasn’t wrong in her statement either.

“didn’t you hear me? they’re letting us through.”

“alright, but…” he begins, but franz is already making his way to the front of the line, deaf to any protests that he would make. he runs to catch up with him, entering the hall in perfect step together.

the hall is… grand. it is bustling with people from all over vyseheim, who have all come together to witness the first round of selections for the concert. but even then, franz cannot help but shake off the feeling that someone is watching— it is so similar to how he is treated in his spire, he almost wonders if he is merely hallucinating the feeling.

the emcee calls for the next person in line— the white haired man next to franz, who he learns is called kreide, takes his leave, and walks up onto the stage. his presence is humble and unauthoritative as he answers the questions he is asked— his name, and whether he had his own instrument or not (which he had not brought).

kreide is allowed to pick from amidst the collection of common-use instruments provided by mr. czerny— he picks up the cello and returns to the stage. “you may begin. do not go over a minute.”

but kreide doesn’t begin. franz sees the way his eyebrows furrow only slightly in confusion. “is there a problem?”

he speaks, just as softly as he had been. “i didn’t get to ask just now, but how do you determine pay for participation?”

“pay?” now everyone’s confused. “there is no material reward for performing in the concert.”

“well, it is your decision to perform or not. however, i do hope that you would grace us with a fine melody before you leave, if that is what you decide.”

after this revelation, kreide sighs in defeat, but he picks up the bow of the cello anyway, channeling his concentration into the instrument in his hands instead. but something stirs within franz, and his hands move to his flute. a few bars pass, and then he raises it to his lips.

he blows through the cold metal and joins kreide on the stage. the white haired man is momentarily taken aback, but he continues his passage while franz accompanies him, seeming almost like they’ve fallen into a telepathic harmony, halting as soon as the timer runs out.

“and… that’s one minute,” the commentator rises to greet them on the stage once more as the crowd gathered in the hall erupts into a thunderous applause. “well done, gentlemen, that just might be the most beautiful performance i’ve heard today.”

“are you here to apply to the concert too?” he inquires, turning towards franz.

“yes. i was planning to do so alone, but herr kreide’s performance struck me deep,” he affirms. “i would be loathe to miss the chance to perform with such an amazing instrumentalist as himself.”

“understood. may i have your name?”

franz takes a moment to think, before answering. “… ebenholz.”

“are you certain? your real name is ebenholz?” the man in front of him is surprised. “that’s not an alias you just came up with?”

“what does it matter if it is?”

“but you are a noble… your lineage and estate—”

“i’ll say it again, my name is ebenholz. do you have any other questions?”

“very well then.” he retreats, and turns his attention to kreide once more. “that said, since you and herr kreide brought no agreement on whether to apply as an ensemble, the decision lies with him. herr kreide…”

“well, i was only applying to this concert for my grandpa’s medical fees…” kreide begins, a resignation ready on the tip of his tongue.

franz interjects before he gets the chance to say it. “should kreide assent to an ensemble, i’d be very willing to provide him and his grandfather economic assistance.”

hope blooms in the heart of the pale haired caprinae and reflects in his eyes. “really?”

“i would advise you to be careful, herr kreide. such aid does not come without strings attached.” the emcee warns.

“please, i ask for some respect.” it takes franz— or rather, ebenholz— everything not to roll his eyes at the third man while kreide hums in contemplation.

“i’ll do it!”

“then i’ll leave it at that.” the two men smile at each other as they walk off the stage. kreide lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he steps out of the building. the sudden change in temperature from stepping out of the air-conditioned hallways of the concert hall does not go unnoticed.

“thank you, really! i can go back home to check on grandpa without any worries now.” kreide clasps his hands together.

“it’s no problem. let me accompany you.” ebenholz smiles back at him. it’s probably the most he’s smiled in a day in the time after his only friend left the spire years ago without so much as a noise.

“are you sure? afterglow is a while away from cliffy patio after all…”

“what’s it gonna take, just an extra few miles of walking?” ebenholz snorts. “besides, we could practice together after this.”

“well, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“herr kreide!” someone shouts. the pair look around to see two women wading through the crowd towards them— one of them with bright purple hair and sharp sarkaz horns distinct from the kind seen on the heads of the caprinae in leithanien. “herr kreide, if we may…”

the sarkaz woman introduces herself first. “i’m hibiscus, and this is my colleague, andante. we were present for your performance just now in afterglow hall.”

“we’re from rhodes island— we’d like to offer to you our assistance in treating your grandfather.”

“i… thank you for offering, but we currently cannot afford any sort of treatment right now…”

“do not worry, herr. we strive to provide treatment and other services to the infected at the most affordable rates. i’d at least recommend a free testing, so that you will be free to decide how you’d like to proceed further.”

“you do have a point, frau hibiscus,” kreide says. “i suppose a free test wouldn’t hurt.”

“do you live in afterglow, herr kreide?” andante asks. “we were on our way there too, we could come along.”

“of course. might i ask why? not a lot of people have business there.”

the group make their way back to afterglow district. ebenholz sees many infected out on the streets. some of them, familiar with kreide, greet him a good afternoon. kreide wishes them back before turning his attention back to the operators of rhodes island. the people are lively, and it is an environment much unlike his home turf.

“we’re trying to investigate a few cases of abnormal infected recovery, and they all happen to be located in the district.” hibiscus answers. a few scornful looks are thrown at her from the sides of the streets, but she ignores them.

“i see.”

“we’re here.” kreide stops at a fairly derelict building and announces. ebenholz notices as he enters the stairwell of the building that it is in far worse condition than the other buildings in afterglow; not that they were in good enough shape themselves either. kreide fishes out a bunch of keys from his pocket when they reach the top of the staircase. they slot awkwardly into the keyhole, and it takes a few tries for him to open the door, but he eventually gets it open. “the lock system’s probably rusted…”

“grandpa! i’m back.”

“kreide… what is this?”

ebeenholz, hibiscus and andante introduce themselves to the old man lying on the lone cot in the room. he struggles to sit up, but with kreide’s support, he is able to rise. “you want me to get tested?”

“yes, sir. we believe this would aid recovery and help us explore more nuanced treatment options.”

“i… well, i’d be willing to test, since you said you’d provide it free of cost, but we don’t have the money for treatment.” the old man says. “and besides, i’m almost about to be a goner, anyway, all that money would be better off for whatever other use my boy would want to put it to.”

“don’t say that, grandpa! i want you to get better.”

andante prepares the equipment— there is so much in the seemingly little bag that she carries around, that kreide almost believes it is some sort of arts modified device. hibiscus hands kreide a pad with some forms and asks him to fill it.

“test results are in,” andante announces after what feels like an eternity of waiting. kreide’s ears perk up at this. “i can’t say it’s too severe, but it’s not good by any means. any patient should receive standard treatment and hospitalised recovery at this stage.”

“the test might’ve been of no charge, but there’s no way i could get it all for free, is there?” grandpa says; it is the voice of a man resigned to his fate.

“we can refer you to some of the organisations that rhodes island is partnered with in vyseheim. you will receive treatment on subsidised prices under the collaborative protocol we have…” she says. “or i could try to negotiate and offset the prices even further for you.”

“there will be no need,” grandpa stands up weakly. “the hospitals still wouldn’t be angels to me, and i don’t want my life to be at their whimsy. kreide, you’ll return every last cent to that noble. we’re done here.”

“but…!” kreide begins to protest, but for lack of a better suggestion, no words come out of his mouth.

“how about he convalesces at the branch, instead of going to any partners?” after a long silence, hibiscus suggests. andante contemplates it, but her next words are worried. “hibiscus, it is only an office that we have…”

“i could give up my guest bed for him. besides, we would be able to monitor his condition more tightly.” she continues. there is a newfound determination in her voice. “sir, i guarantee you, your treatment will be of the highest priority to us.”

“i agree!” kreide adds. “besides, i have to practice with ebenholz, too. i might not have the time to look after you. the office is certainly a step up from the conditions here at home, too…”

grandpa’s sigh almost sends kreide’s heart into a spiral of guilt— but he pacifies himself by remembering that it is only for the best. “allow me to pack some of my things, then.”

“oh, look at the time… would you like to have dinner before you leave? i can cook something up real quick!” kreide shoots ebenholz an apologetic smile. hibiscus and andante have been long gone by now, and grandpa’s bed remains empty. “it probably wouldn’t have gotten so late if that whole thing with my grandpa hadn’t happened…”

“don’t sweat it, kreide,” ebenholz’s voice softens in a way that it barely had over the past years— at least not after you left him so suddenly. “we both want to do our best on mr. czerny’s stage after all, do we not?”

“i suppose you’re right,” he doesn’t fight back. “dinner?”

“it’s already so late, and i must rush back to cliffy patio. you’ve also got your grandpa to take care of, no?”

“it’s not a bother, really! you’ve already helped so much! this is the least i could do to repay you.”

“no need, kreide. i am glad, but you need the aid more.” with that, he turns to leave, bidding farewell to his new friend, and in a mood far brighter than he had been when he left his spire in the morning— perhaps, talking to these normal civilians was nothing like having to deal with the spire servants or other nobles.

the streets of the district are practically empty. it is not surprising considering the hour; what is more surprising though, is the footsteps he hears approaching him from behind, pace quickening every second.

“it’s you! franz, what are you doing here in afterglow?” ebenholz is surprised that there existed someone in this district who knew of his real name.

“you…” he turns around at the sound of the voice, almost unable to recognise the person he’s facing. “_____?”

he doesn’t smile. the years of memories consume him like a tide, and so does the sadness, anger and loneliness. his throat closes up, but he cannot find it in himself to rage at you. “i…”

“is… is this not a good time?” the smile on your face falters when you see his eyebrows raised in what you can only guess is anger or irritation. “i-i guess i’ll see you around then.”

he watches you back away and briskly walk into a turning, your dress flowing behind you, and then turns, continuing his solitary walk back to urtica’s spire.

as soon as you see the familiar building, you enter the stairwell and climb until you find yourself at kreide’s door. the pale haired caprinae greets you as soon as you rap against the old wood, and you let yourself in.

“hey, kreide! how’d the selections go?” you open your arms and he worms into your embrace.

“_____! it’s been a while since you’ve come home,” he sighs. “the selections went really well! the next round will be personally supervised by mr. czerny though…”

“oh, chin up, i’m sure you’ll do well.” you notice the empty bed behind kreide as you let go. “where’s grandpa?”

“his infection flared up, and we had to get him to the hospital.” kreide turns around, staring solemnly at the bed. “well, if the rhodes island branch office here counts…”

“he’ll be alright, then! they’ve got a good hand about these things. got my mutti into a good hospital at a much lower fee.”

“how’s she doing these days?”

“you know, same old. at least the infection is stable right now.”

“well, that’s still a good thing for now,” he replies.

his knife scratches against the cutting board and you sigh, deflating onto the empty bed that had belonged to his grandpa. “mind if i lie down here for a bit?”

“not at all!”

you shut your eyes, but as soon as you do, the image of the dark haired caprinae immediately flashes in your mind, his sour expression and irritated eyebrows down to the boot. you can hear him complain about the servants in his spire once more, and you wonder if he still does— if he’s found another to bemoan his fate with.

“alright, what’s bothering you?”

“you can tell?”

“you’ve been sighing and tossing and turning— it doesn’t take much to see that.” kreide’s violet eyes are the first thing you see when you open your own, as he kneels down next to you. “did anything happen?”

“i really can’t hide anything from you, can i?” you say. “it’s-it’s really no big deal at all, though.”

“you can tell me if anything’s wrong, _____.”

“i told you already, it’s nothing big! chop chop and get back to cooking. come, i’ll join you too.”

taglist: @arknights-imagines

#arknights #arknights x reader #ebenholz arknights #ebenholz arknights x reader #ebenholz x reader #kreide arknights #kreide #hibiscus arknights #hibiscus #hibiscus the purifier #czerny arknights #czerny #leithanien

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