When the Last One Falls

         AN: First time I'm writing something original. Please bare with me, here. ^^; I'm not going to explain anything simply because I feel like I don't have to. So just please, read and enjoy! You don't even have to review; though it would be nice.

When the Last One Falls
Chapter One

         Drea was as prosperous as ever. The people were happy, the government was doing its job, the food was great. But Jazz knew better. Sighing, Jazz looked out over the balcony of the Palace, watching the sun go down—-the equivalent of a sun, anyhow. It was a huge, green orb that lit Drea up, but Jazz could see the edges of the darkness. The country was happy, yes, but its fifteen-year old king was not.
         "Damnit," whispered Jazz, staring hard into the corner of one dark space. "Nitemaria is going to attack soon." He rubbed his temples before looking away, muttering. "They shouldn't have left this to me; they shouldn't have." But that only reminded him that he needed to make plans to defend his home—-it was the logical thing to do and he knew it. He wasn't good at strategic planning, though, when he didn't know what the enemy was like. No matter how much he studied Nitemaria he couldn't find a clue as to how it worked.
         It was a very unorganized country, and its population was no better than its queen. Jazz knew that the queen wasn't the mastermind behind everything—-he had met her a few times. She wasn't the kind to busy herself with wars and battles; she just wanted her country to have fun with the minds of the humans, to torture them. Despite the fact that everyone in both Drea and Nitemaria {ilooked like humans, they really weren't. They resembled human counterparts, humans that humans dreamed about.
         Their duty was to perform and cause dreams; Nitemaria decided they wanted full control of the human mind, to make the humans go insane with their dreams. With the inhabitants of Drea wanting to make life pleasant for their humans it was inevitable that war would be the result. Jazz's parents had known about it for the longest time, had had heated disputes over it before agreeing on one thing:
         Jazz would soon be old enough to handle it all on his own, and he was, strategically, a genius.
         Sighing again, Jazz stared at the point in the distance that lit up. The castle the light came from was illuminated in dark, spider-like shadows. The home of the queen of Nitemaria, and it was soon going to be the place where the enemy lived. As much as Jazz hoped it wouldn't happen, it would. As much as he'd like to be a normal fifteen-year old, he couldn't be. He had a country to think of, a home to protect, and people to think of before himself.
         He hated being king to a country that really didn't need one to begin with. He felt useless, as if he was only there to please the people's needs to have a leader, which he practically was. He wondered if, at times, his parents felt useless. "Probably not…" he whispered to himself, moving his gaze to the city below him, lights dancing through the windows. "They thought they had a purpose; they pleased the people. I'm just a kid to them, though."
         And he was just a kid; all he wanted was to be just a kid. But no, his parents had to relieve themselves of the stress; had to run away before the war started. For that reason alone Jazz hated his parents and their expectations for him; they had to abandon him to get what they wanted without even thinking about what he wanted. He was a naïve child who only wished to have friends his age, to have someone to count on. He didn't have either of those things, and he never would.
         "Jazz? What're you doing outside?"
         "Nothing, Saria, don't worry about it," he responded, turning around to glance at the middle-aged woman. "Don't you have to go to that Alicia-girl tonight?" he asked, attempting to get away any subject involving him or Drea.
         Saria placed her hands firmly at her hips, her hazel-green eyes flashing. "Sir, you may be the king here but I know you well enough not to worry."
         Jazz sighed again, leaning against the balcony and looking out over the city. "Do you think they even know they're in any danger?" he asked, his voice strangely calm. "My parents made them feel so secure—-they couldn't possibly know about how Nitemaria was planning an attack."
         "Aren't they still planning an attack?" Saria countered, stepping up beside him. Jazz just glanced at her, knowing she would continue. "Your parents didn't leave you in charge for no reason."
         "I don't know a thing about Nitemaria," Jazz admitted. "They kept me so far away from the files and debates—-and my parents abandoned us, they didn't 'leave me in charge.' They didn't want to deal with this and that's why they disappeared. There was no note and you know it."
         Saria remained silent before sighing. "They did not leave you because of the threat of war, Jazz," she said, wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him tightly. "I know you miss them, but—-"
         "I don't miss them," Jazz cut in, shrugging away from Saria, "and they never cared about me, Saria, It's probably best that they're gone."
         "Jazz…"
         "Go, Saria," he whispered, "find me someone who knows about Nitemaria. I need to know more about the country, and it seems like none of the Parliament believes I can do my job as King. They wouldn't give me information--at least, not what I needed, anyway."
         "Jazz, you're only fifteen!" Saria hissed. "Let the Parliament deal with it! We've kept Nitemaria under wraps before."
         "And how do you think they did that? I'm not one to brag but the Parliament would ask me 'hypothetical' questions as to how I would respond to a certain event, how I would counter it. They've been doing that since I was ten, but they've stopped since Kaasan and Father left." Jazz stopped and turned his attention back to Nitemaria. "The Parliament told me they went to spy on Nitemaria; I doubt that. They've been gone for months, now."
         "They're fine, Jazz. They aren't the kind to get caught," Saria said, placing a hand on his arm. "They wouldn't just leave you, either."
         "That's not what I think happened," Jazz muttered. Saria looked confused, then shook her head. "Then again, it was a passing thought…. Has the queen of Nitemaria contacted us yet?"
         "She has," Saria said with a nod. "She wishes to speak with you, but…the Parliament wouldn't allow it. They say you're too young to make negotiations," Saria elaborated, her voice soft and slow.
         "They want to baby me," Jazz muttered. "They think that just because I'm a child that I would screw everything up. They're the ones who are going to mess up and it'll be me they come to."
         Saria hugged Jazz again, whispering, "They wouldn't do that to you—-your parents wouldn't allow it."
         "They never listened to my parents before, why would they start now?" Jazz asked, pulling away from Saria once again. "When my parents left they gained control—-that's what they want and now they have it, and they won't give any power to me." With that said, Jazz headed towards one of the many doors that lined the balcony. "I'm going to bed, Saria. Go find someone who has inside information for me, please? Don't tell the Parliament about it."
         Saria nodded, watching as Jazz walked inside the Palace and sighed. "Cloe, if only you were here to comfort him…" she whispered before walking through a different door.

         Savin couldn't believe it. He made it. He made it! He could barely contain his happiness, but it was pitch black in the harmonious city: he didn't want to wake anyone up. Turning around he glanced towards the only speck of light in the distance. "It's about time I got away from that place," he whispered, grinning. "Goodbye, Nitemaria, hey-lo Drea."
         He knew they would be after him, but unless the government wanted to cause a disturbance ahead of time, they wouldn't dare walk inside the peace-loving city. This was the only place where he would be safe—at least, momentarily. Nitemarians would find him eventually and sniff him out, but for now Drea would have to do. He walked into the city, amazed that it was so dark. Nitemaria was always so alive at night; Drea was not.
         It didn't surprise him, though. Drea was known for its tranquillity; Nitemaria was known for the exact opposite. Savin walked on, flicking his black hair out of his eyes. He should cut it sometime soon—his human-counterpart was going to do the same. This was the place he wanted to be in; he wasn't going to go back there. Causing humans mental anguish was only so much fun for so long.
         Then again, he had been born into Nitemaria—and once one was born there one couldn't leave without permission. Permission didn't mean a thing to Savin; permission was a limitation Savin couldn't use. Without it, he would be chased. But…he liked being on the run, loved being chased, loved the thrill. Though, he needed a break now. He looked around for a hotel or something similar that was open, but he was greeted with nothing.
         "Shoulda figured," he whispered, shaking his head, reaching into his bag and rummaging around for a rubber band. He found one, snapped it, and then tied his hair up. It was getting in his way too much. Once he pulled his hair back he looked up at the skyline, noticing that the lights of the Palace were still on. In fact, he could see a boy leaning against the railing of the balcony, with a stumpy redheaded woman next to him. The boy seemed annoyed.
         Savin leaned against the brick wall of the building, watching as the two seemed to have a conversation. The boy didn't seem that much younger than he was—maybe a year or two at the most. Why would someone that young be in the Palace of Drea, though? Savin wondered. He knew he should have paid more attention to the news on Drea before running to the country. The conversation came to an end, and the boy walked inside. His walk was slow and tiresome, and even though Savin didn't know the boy, he didn't like it one bit. Something had to have been bothering him.
         Savin took his eyes off the balcony and continued onwards toward the Palace. So he didn't know much about this place—he did know that they could use information on Nitemaria. The impending war was still hanging over Drea's shoulders—Savin knew that it would be interesting to see what the king here knew about his country.
         "Excuse me," a woman whispered, pushing past Savin. She stopped and turned to stare at him. "You're not from here, are you?"
         Savin smiled nervously at the woman. "No, I'm not," he began softly, "Do you know of a place I could stay at until tomorrow? I'm kind of tired."
         The woman sighed and looked up at the balcony of the Palace. "You were watching the King too, weren't you?"
         Savin blinked. "You mean that boy…was the King? He's too young…"
         "His mother and father left a few months ago and left him in charge. Drea's done all right with him, but I suspect that the blasted Parliament is doing all the work for the boy. Jazz'll never learn to take care of the country at this rate…" she whispered, shaking her head. "Come with me; you can stay at my place. Where are you from?"
         "Well…there's only one other country if I'm not from Drea," Savin said, following the lady. "My name's Savin."
         "So you're the runaway," the woman responded, smirking. "I try to keep up with the Nitemarian news. I'm one of the King's counsel members, but the Parliament won't allow me to share any information with him. The boy's fifteen—he can make his own decisions."
         "I thought he was around that age," Savin said. "I'm an adult, luckily… So you work for him, huh? Must be interesting."
         "He's been really quiet since his parents left. It's unnerving because he used to never shut up. Now it's a struggle just to get him to say, 'Hello.'"
         "Maybe he misses his parents," Savin offered, shrugging.
         "No, that's not it. That's what I thought until he kindly pointed out to me that he hated them. Something's worrying him, and I believe it's your country," the woman stated. "My name's Cloe, by the way."
         Savin nodded, looking around as they moved farther from Drea's Palace. "He hates them?"
         "Well, he believes they abandoned him—my friend Saria is his mentor. He tells her that all the time; says that they couldn't handle the pressure anymore and decided to put it all on him," Cloe said, sighing.
         "Does he know of the threat Nitemaria's posing?" Savin asked.
         "Yes. He knows of it and wishes that he could plan out defenses. The damn Parliament won't tell him anything and he's annoyed with it."
         "But he's only fifteen—what can he do?"
         "You're only seventeen, aren't you? And you're running from Nitemaria. Not anyone can do that—just like Jazz isn't like any normal fifteen-year-old boy. He's a strategic genius, always was one." Cloe turned towards one of he houses, walking up to the door and opening it without much hesitation. "He was never a normal child and he knows it."
         "Has he ever seen anyone his age?"
         "He has, but he doesn’t like to be around people. He's a very antisocial person and he likes it that way…he only wants to do his job," Cloe said with a sigh. "He's only fifteen and already he's a workaholic."
         "You know him rather well…" Savin muttered finally, walking into the small home. It was furnished comfortably, and Savin sat down in the couch in the right-hand corner.
         "Saria only tells me what she knows about him. She's the only one he trusts…and she should be home soon," Cloe mused softly, glancing at the clock. "Normally she's home before I am, but she wanted to stay late tonight to make sure Jazz would be alright."
         "You and Saria live together?" Savin rummaged through his bag, unsure of what he was looking for.
         "Yes. But she's been staying at the Palace more and more often. She and I are very close," Cloe whispered, placing a string of blonde hair behind her ear. "She got me my position in the court."
         Savin nodded distractedly before sighing and giving up his search for whatever it was he was looking for. "How did she get so close to him if he's antisocial?"
         "She pretty much raised him since his mother couldn't," Cloe responded, disappearing into a different room. "Do you want anything to drink, Savin?"
         "No thanks," Savin muttered. "I should probably go to sleep soon. I walked here, after all."
         "You've almost gotten caught a few times, haven't you? Why are you running away from your home?"
         "I hate Nitemaria," Savin responded without a second thought. "My parents were no good lousy parents and I just don't like scaring my human. He fell in love, you know. All his nightmares focus on his love dying. I'm annoyed with it."
         "What did his love look like?" Cloe asked, returning into the living room with a cup of tea in her hand.
         "I don't really remember… I haven't been apart of his nightmares as of late," Savin stated. "Besides, they say that if your human falls in love, the person who they're in love with…their counterpart is who you will fall for. I don't want to meet up with the person."
         "Being in love isn't so bad," Cloe whispered over her tea. "Trust me, it's a lot easier than people like to think."
         "Well, I don't want to fall in love. I won't be able to run away when I need to if I meet this person," Savin stated. "I can't stop running—Nitemaria wants me back and nothing will stop them from finding me."
         "Why did you come here, then?"
         "I felt the need to," Savin said, pulling his hair out of his rubber band. It fell across his shoulders and instantly blocked his vision. "Damn hair…" he muttered. "I also needed a place where I could be safe for a moment…"
         "So you're tired of running for now," Cloe finished for him. Savin nodded. "Don't you think there might have been another reason that you felt the need to come here?"
         "I don't believe in fate, if that's what you're asking me," Savin responded, getting comfortable. "Fate's such a stupid thing. We control who we are and what we do. Nothing's predetermined."
         "Are you sure about that? Then why do you believe in that superstition? The one where you fall in love with the same 'person' as your human-counterpart?" Cloe asked. Savin could hear the smirk in her tone and just shook his head.
         "That's different—we have to be exactly like our humans, personality-wise. It's the only way we can successfully pull off being them in their dreams" Savin responded. "I've only seen the counterpart of my human's lover a few times, and the appearances were brief. I haven't fallen yet."
         "You have to meet whoever she is in person," Cloe whispered. "You have to get to know her like your human got to know her human."
         "…I don't think…" Savin shook his head before pushing his hair out of his face. "My human…I don't think that he…fell for a girl," he mumbled, staring at the floor in contempt.
         Cloe remained silent; whether she heard him or not Savin didn't know, but he didn't care. It wasn't considered unusual for such things to happen around here and he knew it, but he still didn't like it. The two didn't open their mouths, but the silence was broken when Saria opened the door.
         "Cloe…who's that?" she asked softly, pointing to Savin.
         "You must be Saria," Savin said, "my name's Savin. You've probably heard of me…"
         "You're…from Nitemaria, aren't you?" Saria asked, raising an eyebrow.
         "I am, as much as I'd hate to admit it. Nice place you've got here," Savin said with a smile.
         "Savin? Can you come to the Palace with me tomorrow? There's someone there who'd like to meet you…" Saria smirked. "You made my life easier—Jazz wants someone with inside information on Nitemaria."
         "Why?" Cloe asked, putting her cup down. "He's not planning an attack, is he?"
         "Of course not—he's just worried. He doesn't have a clue as to what's going on because the damn Parliament won't tell him a damn thing. He wants to keep Drea safe—he's probably only going to strategically place defenses or something."
         "That's not like him…. Are you sure he's not trying to find his parents?" Cloe suggested softly.
         "He mentioned something about them—but I doubt that he's trying to find them," Saria said, sitting down next to Cloe. Savin just watched the two talk, taking in every word that he could.
         "Well, then what else could Jazz want with inside information?"
         "Like Saria said, he probably only wants to know what's going on," Savin interrupted. "He's being sheltered off from the info, right? Information he wants to know so he can run the country…"
         "He's only fifteen," Saria uttered, glaring at Savin. "Strategic genius he may be but he doesn't need that kind of pressure right now. He needs to be a kid."
         "He's a mirror image of his counterpart, right?" Savin asked. "Maybe his counterpart never got to be a kid. Maybe he doesn't want that."
         "But he needs it—he won't ever be happy until he does," Cloe whispered.
         "Some people don't deserve that kind of happiness," Savin muttered. "He's unhappy because that's what he wants. If he wants to be happy he'll find a way to be happy."
         Both Cloe and Saria blinked and shut their mouths, turning their attention to the floor. Savin looked between the two of them before sighing and shaking his head. Slowly he turned on his side, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to fall asleep. He needed it, anyway.

         Kaasan—Japanese for "Mother" (I will only italicize it this one time, since it was the first time it was used.)
         Yes, that is the end of the chapter. I'm so cheap. Anyway, tell me what you think! ^^