Chapter Text
He’d found it.
The source of that mindless babbling in his head.
Sword clutched tightly to his chest, Luke’s eyes were immovably locked onto the bumbling mirror image he saw where he should’ve been.
The human-shaped thing’s thoughts had been spilling over into his own since the wretched day of its creation, and even now, they’d barely begun to form so much as a single coherent word.
Luke couldn’t move, he felt like he couldn’t even breathe. Everything was tight, and his body might as well have been made of stone for all its lack of obedience.
His family was hovering around the creature, cooing sympathetically as it stumbled and otherwise fumbled its way around. Completely oblivious to their true child, as he was subjected to every one of his disgusting copy’s changes of mood.
A part of him that was so very worn, and battered, whispered that it wasn’t fair to blame the fake that had been forced into a position it didn’t rightly own. But that quiet voice was drowned out by a ferocious desire to throw the replacement aside and run to his mother.
The strange link between he and his replica hadn’t gotten any stronger with proximity, though it may have been more accurate to say it hadn’t been any weaker with distance. The only thing that had changed was a deeper surely of his double’s existence. There was a kind of directness to looking at the infant wearing his body, and hearing snippets of its incessant wordless mumbling, that left Luke fully certain his copy was the one responsible for it all.
The concept was horrifyingly nauseating.
But he wouldn’t give the world the pleasure of knowing it distressed him so.
The boy felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but though he was well hidden in the tree-line, he wouldn’t risk exposing himself with such a display of disgust.
There, in the courtyard, bumbling around with his parents and fiancée, was an imposter.
Mother’s face was blurry, but he knew she had to have been looking at that thing with the same affection that had once been reserved for him alone.
Father was likely as cold as always, but Natalia . . .
The princess was playing with the fake, and coddling the copy of him as though it was a newborn baby.
Though Luke supposed it was in a way.
A twisted, unnatural creature had stolen his family.
The sun may have been bright, the sky clear and blue, but all the young noble could see was that sickening flame-red hair.
That was his hair. His body. Everything was supposed to be his!
If he’d had any sufficient amount of air in his lungs, the boy would’ve made himself sick laughing at the injustice.
Cackling at the absurdity of what his life had become, and at the devastation that lay just beneath that detached observation.
As it was, Luke was only able to produce a low, wheezing sound.
He was tired.
If he took back his place, what then?
Of course they’d know it was him, he could speak, unlike the replica. There were thousands of ways he could convince everyone of the truth. But what then?
Van had orchestrated this, and he was likely closer now than Luke wished he was.
He knew better than to think his master would allow something like this to get in the way of his plans.
If Luke walked up to his family now, would Van simply take him away again? The man claimed he had honest intentions, but even if it had been for the young redhead’s own good, Luke hadn’t wanted to be kidnapped, and above all else, he didn’t think he could stomach the pain of knowing he’d been truly replaced.
If he left his family this final time, he’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Luke didn’t care if everything had been done to save him from whatever threat master Van wouldn’t yet explain, the agony of that giant machine his teacher had forced him onto was worse than he’d ever experienced in his nearly eleven years of life.
It had torn apart Luke’s body, and then remade him in what felt like hours but was likely seconds. There were no words to describe the depths of that pain he’d felt in those moments. If he’d had a choice between that torture and death, he’d have chosen death unflinchingly.
The first few days after had been quiet, but unfathomably uncomfortable.
Like a wall in the back of Luke’s mind had been knocked out and left unprotected.
At mealtime, when Van had visited with him as he’d made a habit of, the boy had worriedly asked about the new irritant, but received no concrete answer. And when the baby-like babbling had started, Luke had eventually figured out what was wrong.
By then, his master had already explained what he’d done.
They’d made a substitute. One who could play human just enough to pass for Luke, so that his family would stop looking for their real son.
Luke was rather proud of the fact that he hadn’t broken down upon hearing the news.
And he wasn’t going to break now either.
He was strong. He was a Fabre for Yulia’s sake. Something like this wasn’t going to shake the young noble, he just needed the time to work out a plan.
If his heart would quit its treacherous aching and give him a moment, he’d have that time.
A hand from behind suddenly found Luke’s right shoulder and at last, the small sword he’d held in a death grip landed on the grass beneath him with a soft thump.
The hand’s owner had moved unannounced by even the tiniest rustle of the nearby foliage.
“Luke, I thought I’d find you here.” Van’s voice was warm and reassuring, but a small spark of fear ignited in the boy’s chest.
He hadn’t yet decided what it was he wanted to do, and if his master took him back to that horrible place, he probably wouldn’t have that choice ever again.
“Come now, you’ve seen how fickle these people are, they don’t care for you, they’re simply satisfied with an inferior fake. Do you really think they deserve this admirable loyalty?” Van placed another hand on Luke’s opposite shoulder, and his cool blue eyes pierced the child’s.
What the man was saying wasn’t right.
Luke’s family just needed the real him to compare with his replica. They simply had no way of knowing it wasn’t him without himself as proof.
Still, he couldn’t muster the words to talk back to his master. The brunette had done all this for him. He’d said so over and over again. Luke wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be given choice in the matter regardless of anything he said.
Van’s expression softened with sympathy. “I know it’s hard to accept, but you’re strong enough to forge your own future. And you can start by taking your own name. One not thrust upon you by the score, but by your own choosing.”
He must have mistaken Luke’s distress for deliberation.
“What about Asch? I believe it’s rather fitting, for the leftover ashes of the sacred flame. That way you can still keep a piece of your old self.” Van smiled. Smiled. As he told Luke to give up the name his parents had granted him from his birth. As though it were a gift, an honor, to throw away his name. His life.
He wouldn’t. That was his, and Luke wasn’t going to loose anything else.
With an apologetic tone and warm, crinkled eyes, Van said, “You don’t need to watch this tragedy any longer, Lu- Asch, let’s return.” The man stood and motioned for his pupil to follow as he walked away, but Luke stayed rooted to the spot.
That familiar bundle of half-formed words and intent he’d come to realize was the replica’s way of referring to him had just sounded in his mind. And though his back was turned to the horrifying vision behind him, Luke knew the thing was approaching.
In its own, halting, awkward way, but still moving towards him nonetheless.
With his master having stopped to turn back towards Luke, the noble could see the exact moment when he noticed the approach of his pupil’s copy.
For what it was worth, Luke himself didn’t turn around. There was no need.
When the human-shaped creature nearly tripped into him, the boy didn’t even flinch. He could barely move his body, and it could’ve been from the many scrapes and injuries, just as easily as it could have been shock at the sight of his family entertaining an imposter.
The replica’s awareness of him was at an all time high, and it made Luke’s skin crawl. It was invasive in the same way whatever process they’d used to make the replacement itself had been.
Van said nothing, but the noble saw a spark of disgust in his eyes as the replica precariously leaned on the person it had been made from.
The brunette moved to chase the infantile redhead away, but was met by a distressed whimper as the replica repeated the mental jabber he called Luke, and grabbed onto his arm.
Luke tried to shake it off, but he wasn’t able to exert the level of force he wanted to on the pathetic thing.
Ever since it had grown enough of a brain to realize there was someone else with it, the replica had become disgustingly clingy. Luckily, it had been every bit as distractible as it had been desperate for attention, so Luke hadn’t had to deal with it constantly trying to interact with him.
He’d even found he could block it off whenever he wanted, but the thing would throw such a fit that he’d find a sickeningly painful headache growing between his eyes and the back of his skull.
It became easier to leave whatever bound them together open once he’d realized the exact source of that discomfort.
With a confused wail from the replica, Luke felt the hand on his arm suddenly disappear, and he watched as Van dragged the thing away. It was crying loudly now, which attracted the attention of Luke’s family and the attendants nearby.
Van quickly tossed the copy aside, unbothered by the fact that it roughly fell onto one of the nearby trees, and grabbed his pupil’s shoulders. “We have to go now, quickly!”
The boy didn’t move. And as a small gust of wind blew through the copse of trees he hid in, he belatedly realized the cold trails on his face were tears.
How long had those been there? Had his master seen them?
“Come.” Van’s voice was harsh and commanding, and still, Luke didn’t make to follow him.
The redhead’s legs were shaking, and the fake him was sobbing for comfort both inside and outside of his head. Luke didn’t know what to do.
He didn’t want to leave. He wanted his family back.
Once the crowd rushing towards the crying replica was nearly close enough to see him, Van cursed and swiftly retreated over the fence behind him.
Luke wondered if that would be the last time he’d see his master. He wasn’t sure if he’d prefer never to see him again, or if he wished the option of escape that man promised remained available.
The human copy had mostly quit his ear-piercing wailing, and now watched his mirror image curiously. He obviously knew some of who Luke was to him. But given how stupid the thing was, he probably hadn’t had the foreknowledge to assume there was another person that looked just like him on the opposite end of their strange mental connection.
Wait . . . when had Luke started calling that thing a ‘him’?
Pointless word-like sounds erupted from the creature’s mouth, but horrifyingly enough, Luke understood what he meant.
He wanted to know if the person who’d scared him was gone, and if things wouldn’t hurt anymore. Luke didn’t even have to debate responding to his replica, because the thing had already taken the answer from his own thoughts.
The boy needed to quit humanizing it. The replica was just person shaped. It wasn’t an actual human.
Even if its pointlessly babbling thoughts seemed to tell a different story.
Now, as his mother was nearly to where the two redheads were hidden in the trees, Luke’s replica wanted him to come sit by it.
The young noble’s legs creaked as though they were made of rusty fon machinery, and he wasn’t sure what possessed him to go to its side as he moved towards the him-shaped being and sat on the ground next to it.
With a pleased sound, it leaned against him and Luke didn’t have the strength to push it away. His entire body was shaking with what could’ve been adrenaline, but he also felt completely exhausted at the same time. It was an odd combination.
The name it had given him in its mind was nothing more than a collection of sounds, with a few scattered impressions thrown in, and it had begun repeating that phrase constantly since it had seen him. The noise was deafening.
It was so . . . happy, to see him, to touch him, and just be near him. Luke couldn’t understand why.
“Luke, please don’t run off like that again.” Mother’s gentle voice called out from just outside Luke’s range of vision.
“I’m sorry, mother.” That slipped out before the boy could stop himself. Years under her care had ironed into Luke that it was best if he assuaged Susanne’s worries as soon as possible.
“Luke? Did you just-“ The crimson-haired woman peered around the tree and stumbled back at the sight of two identical Lukes. “Lorelei . . . What is this?” Leaves crunched as the duchess stepped around the tree, and kneeled before her child and his replacement with shock in her eyes.
If Luke explained the things that had happened to him, what would that mean for Van? What would they do to his replica?
As disconcerting as the thing’s existence was, the young noble wasn’t sure he could handle it being disposed of. For whatever reason, it was a part of him, and he didn’t want to know how that would affect him if it was destroyed.
Watery green eyes turned to Luke with a question in their depths. It could tell whatever its original was thinking wasn’t good for it.
“It’s me, mother. I came back.” The young noble wasn’t sure what else to say, but he didn’t want his mother waiting any longer.
Susanne turned from her son to his replica with pursed lips. “What about-“
“That thing is a fake me.” Luke wasn’t sure how to elaborate without scaring his copy further.
Why did he even care?
It went back to huddling against him. There was so much joy in that tiny mind at finally being able to meet the person who’d been there its entire life.
That softly infectious feeling made Luke himself feel strangely warm too, and regardless of the sensation’s origins, he wanted to chase it.
“A replica?” Guy thoughtfully interjected. He must have been right behind mother.
Had Guy heard of replicas before? Were they common?
Luke closed his eyes and slumped forward a touch. He was too tired to bother answering that, and he didn’t want to be rude to mother or the blonde manservant with what would likely be a snappish response.
Just as his senses began to blur, someone called, “Luke? What is going on?”
Natalia. He could stay awake for her. He hoped he could.
“I’m back, Natalia. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” Luke didn’t really know what someone was supposed to say to their betrothed in this situation. He’d been the one kidnapped, but he’d also made her worry in the process.
“Don’t apologize, Luke. This wasn’t your fault.” The blonde shook her head.
As proper as always. There was something comforting about that.
Natalia was as prim as she always was, mother just as worried and fragile, Guy had that matter-of-fact attitude as usual, and father was standing away from the group gathered around his newly-returned son.
Everyone was as they had always been, and it eased the discomfort of Luke not feeling quite the same.
The replica yawned and flopped over onto his lap. All Luke could do was stare.
It was just as tired as he was, but it had no knowledge of social conventions, and thus had no problem taking a nap whenever it wanted to.
As weak hands gripped onto his trousers, Luke wished he could sleep with it.
The people around him were probably still talking, but between the dwindling babbling in his head, and his own exhaustion, he felt like his ears were underwater.
The boy mumbled an apology and closed his eyes. Thick, warm sleep was wrapped around him now, and any hope of staying awake was gone.
He may have slumped over, or even hit the ground entirely, but Luke’s body felt numb and distant.
The only thing that still felt real was the other him in his head, and that copy was now fast asleep.
Somewhat hesitantly, Luke followed his replacement into dreams of comforting nothingness. Where the aches of his body couldn’t yet reach.
There was a weight on his chest. A living one.
One that was fully aware, and apparently had been for some time.
Garbled thoughts mixed with half-baked verbal speech bounced around the confused Luke. He noticed they were in his room, and on his bed, but he wasn’t entirely sure how they’d ended up there.
And he’d definitely have to teach his replica how to keep its thoughts to itself. It probably wasn’t smart enough to learn at the moment, but maybe in time.
It wanted him to know they’d been moved to where they were now, and that it had woken up and thrown a fit when they’d tried to move it somewhere else away from its original.
Of course, the boy found it difficult to interpret what he’d been given into full words and sentences, so Luke could’ve been wrong.
He wasn’t even sure why he was trying to give his replica the time of day. He didn’t owe the thing any grace for what it had done, and it wasn’t even human to begin with.
The living copy was a creepy, weird creature that acted like a baby, and couldn’t think any more complexly than a rock could.
It was splayed across his stomach like it belonged there, trying desperately to form whole words it could use to communicate with the person it’d been made from.
If his replacement wasn’t a person, why did it think so much like one?
That was something he could worry about later. Luke’s throat was dry and his stomach felt as though someone had carved it out ages ago.
His underdeveloped replica must have felt similarly hungry, but its current attention was solely focused on showering him with as much physical affection as it could.
Luke shifted and attempted to push himself off the bed.
That garnered an upset grunt as his replica tried to hold on, and ended up pinning him to the bed.
“Get off.” The young noble’s voice was stern, and he clearly projected his intention to move away from the bed.
With a forlorn whimper, the copy moved off of him and stared at Luke sadly.
He tried to ignore the way his heart twinged at that pathetic display.
It might’ve been the same day, but Luke couldn’t tell. He’d lost most of his concept of time maybe a week or two ago. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly his sense of the passing days had faded, though. He had been fed regularly, but he’d never been given a time, nor access to the sun to keep himself grounded.
Every visit to his holding room had simply been to feed him, and for Van to once again only partially explain why he’d done what he did.
Other than that, Luke hadn’t had any other company besides the slowly mentally-progressing replica they’d made from him. His master hadn’t even known he’d been able to hear the thing.
As the boy pushed off the bed, his replica followed, and vaguely wanted to know where they were going. It made an awkward landing on the floor, but was otherwise determined to go with its original as it stumbled closer.
Luke needed to accept the fact that he wasn’t going to get rid of it so easily.
He opened the door and considered shutting the replica inside his room, but the noble didn’t want to risk it throwing a tantrum. The memory of its last little ‘episode’ when he shut it out was far too fresh in his mind.
Instead of locking it away in his room, Luke waited for the wobbly mirror image to slowly trail behind him, before he let the door shut.
A few maids were about in the courtyard, as well as the old groundskeeper, but Luke didn’t see his parents anywhere.
Guy wasn’t around either, and he was supposed to be attending to Luke.
He’d just made his way back from being kidnapped and replaced, but nobody was there to check on him.
Did they really not care that much?
Was he as worthless in their eyes as Van said?
A tug on his wrist distracted Luke from his thoughts.
The impossibly wide eyed stare of the replica met his own eyes, and the boy wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He and his copy were the same height, but somehow, the replica still felt smaller.
It had realized its original was upset, and it wanted to make the bad feelings go away.
A confusingly human action.
And one that put a bitter taste in Luke’s mouth. Van said it was artificial. Like a fon machine that was supposed to simply pass as a person. But even so, the behavior Luke saw now went beyond purely pretending to be human.
It was like a weird infant, but it didn’t seem fake.
The boy took a deep breath and focused on the wind that gently battered his face. It was a pleasant day, and he hadn’t felt one of those in a long time.
Judging by the sun, it was probably around noon. So he’d either slept for just a couple of minutes, or he’d been out for an entire day.
Luke had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter. His limbs were stiff, and the voice in his head was restless now that he’d let its owner out of his room.
The replica was leaning heavily on him as they walked across the courtyard. It didn’t seem like it could control its body very well, despite the fact that it looked ten outwardly. There was something severely unsettling about that.
But for whatever reason, the fake him was so bubbly and excited, and Luke found it more difficult to dislike for the sentiment.
Besides, his copy hadn’t actually succeeded in its original purpose, and though Luke wasn’t sure what was waiting for it now, he didn’t like the idea of getting rid of it.
A tug on his shoulder followed by a curious little sound told the young noble his replica wanted to know what he was thinking about.
He wasn’t quite sure about indulging the thing just yet.
Was there any point to growing attached to his replica when it could be taken away at any moment? Besides simply being in the way of everyone returning to a normal life, it could probably be considered a useful specimen for study.
Luke would admit he didn’t understand the concept of replication. Van hadn’t explained much more than the fact that his replica was only going to pretend to be human, and that it had been made from his data. Whatever that was.
Given their weird connection, his copy was probably a scientific marvel. Luke could imagine many people desperately wanting to study the thing, to pick it apart for its inner workings alongside whatever else scientists did.
A scared whimper echoed aloud and in the boy’s head.
Maybe now that it could see him, Luke could finally block it off and keep it from listening in to all his thoughts.
Without a moment of hesitation, Luke drew up a wall between them, and enjoyed the single second of privacy it brought. There was still a muted kind of sense he felt from his replica, but it didn’t take their link for the noble to realize it was beyond upset now.
The younger redhead stopped in its tracks and stared at him worriedly, before a hitching, bubbling cry began to start up. This time however, Luke wouldn’t give in. Even as a headache grew at his temples, and he had the distinct impression the human-shaped creature was pounding at the metaphorical barrier between them.
The replica was full on wailing now, that high, desperate sound only broken by occasional wet gasps for breath.
It turned away from Luke and began tearfully searching its surroundings, as though it was looking for where the person next to its mind should’ve been. Couldn’t it see Luke was right there?
The red-haired boy would’ve felt bad for his double, if it weren’t for the fact that he needed to get his replica used to being without him.
But it looked so pitiful now, and on top of catching the attention of the maids, even the gardener had turned to look.
After a moment, the elderly, balding man with a stooped neck wandered over and brushed dirt from his gloves. The sobbing humanoid-copy flinched away from the gardener’s outstretched hand, and backed further from both Luke and the stranger.
It was shaking its head back and forth, tears and mucus freely flowing down its face -which was objectively disgusting-, and the boy decided there would be no fixing this without reopening their connection.
The moment that mental wall came down, the thing’s face lit up, and it tumbled back over to him with an anxious smile.
The replica didn’t understand why it was sometimes alone inside its mind, and that was terrifying.
Most people just looked like vague impressions to the creature’s underdeveloped mind, hard to decipher and even harder to remember when they weren’t directly in front of it.
Suddenly, Luke realized his replica probably didn’t really recognize anyone but him, and even then, only mentally.
It still couldn’t speak, verbally or otherwise, which made communication difficult, but as a group of maids rushed closer with handkerchiefs to wipe at the replica’s face, Luke knew it didn’t want to deal with anyone else at the moment.
The copy felt exposed and confused. People it didn’t recognize hovering over it only made that nervousness worse.
The boy sighed and snatched one of the outstretched cloths from the nearest maid. “I can handle this, please excuse yourself and tell my parents that I’ve awoken.”
It was disgusting, what he had to do. But Luke wasn’t in a position where he could back out. Letting his mirror image wander around with such a messy face was inconceivable, and he knew the thing didn’t have the wherewithal to clean itself.
He tried to send his replica a kind of instructional image, one where the copy stayed put and let Luke wipe its face.
The infant-like creature didn’t understand what for, but it happily complied because Luke wasn’t hiding from it any longer.
If it ever grew a brain, he hoped it would eventually move on from that clinginess.
Once the sickening deed was done, Luke held the soiled handkerchief far away from him and wondered if it would be easier to just burn the cloth. He didn’t really know what to do with it now, but the last place he wanted the snotty thing was in his hand.
Wait. His replica would probably jump off a cliff if he asked.
“Here you go.” The redhead took his replacement’s hand and dropped the handkerchief into its waiting grasp. His replica eyed the clump of fabric questioningly, but otherwise kept a firm grip on the gross fabric.
Luke chose not to think about the fact that he’d never consider that hand clean again.
After another minute of standing in the sunny courtyard, the same maid from earlier rushed out. “Young master, the duke and duchess are currently in a meeting, but they request your presence.”
“Thank you.” Luke assumed they were in the meeting hall, so he made his way straight there.
After the boy knocked on the door, replica in tow, he received the go ahead from his father to enter.
Luke found his uncle, parents, and even Van seated at the table.
He immediately took the closest available seat next to his mother and watched as his copy chose to teeter next to his seat hesitantly.
With a sigh the young noble slid off his chair. Once he’d moved the other seat next to his, the stupid copy was mollified, and clumsily clambered onto its own chair next to Luke.
Crimson speared his son with an appraising glare. “Now that we’re all settled, Luke, tell us what happened.”
The redhead resisted turning to his master at that. He didn’t want to expose Van. The brunette had tried to save him, surely he was still a good man, even if he’d hurt Luke.
“I don’t remember much, father. A group of people took me and placed me inside a large machine that was deep under our old vacation home. After however long I was held there, I escaped.” Hopefully that was good enough.
“You didn’t see the faces of those who kidnapped you at all?” The duke questioned.
Luke shook his head. “No father. They were very thorough.” The boy was well aware of the telling lilt to his voice as he spoke, but he hoped it simply sounded like he was afraid.
He wasn’t not afraid, really. But a part of Luke still felt like everything was a dream, and that he’d never actually escaped his holding room at all. That sort of cushiony disbelief made it difficult for the memories of what happened to truly take root in his mind, and thus any particularly strong emotions regarding his kidnapping were tucked away.
The replica next to him repeated the jumble of sounds it called Luke, and softly mumbled something that Luke had the distinct impression was supposed to be comforting in nature. The tone and cadence reminded Luke of when mother soothed him, but it lacked the structure of real words.
“And now on to the issue of the replica.” Father’s voice was cold and detached, but that wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary.
“What about it?” Luke dared to ask.
The patron of the house leaned back in his chair. “The replica cannot stay.”
A jolt of fear shot through the younger noble, which he quickly tried to stifle. For whatever reason, he didn’t like that idea. Even if he’d been musing about it earlier in the courtyard, he hadn’t been truly serious.
“Why can’t it?”
“There cannot be two of you. How would we explain such a thing to the people of Kimlasca? Especially considering the fact that the score only foretold one child being born to this household.” Father gave a startled look as though he hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but when Luke turned to his master to gauge his reaction, the brunette looked the same as always.
As his heart began to race, the young redhead scrambled for something to say. The situation was growing out of control, and his replica was beginning to stress itself out from the snippets of understanding it gleaned from its original.
“What if there was a reason we had to keep it around?”
“And what would that be?” Crimson didn’t seem too interested in his son’s offer.
Like didn’t want to reveal his hand to such a large audience, especially considering how strange it was, but he had no choice.
“We’re . . . connected. I can hear its thoughts and feelings or whatever.” He lost steam near the end. Whatever progress he had thought his words would make towards his point, Luke wasn’t so sure of himself anymore.
“Him, dear.” Susanne chided softly from next to her son.
It was easier to face to potential inevitability of his replica being taken away from him if he thought of it as a non-human.
When Luke looked towards the identical face next to him, its emerald eyes were already shiny with building tears, and the thing’s lip quivered pathetically.
The entire meeting, it had offhandedly wondered what everyone was talking about, and now of all times, the defective thing had almost begun to put the pieces together. Maybe it wasn’t completely at the level of an infant mentally. Luke wasn’t sure if babies had the capacity to figure out complex situations like that.
Before it could cry and ruin any chances of things working out, the boy pulled his mirror closer to him, and tried to think soothing thoughts.
It repeated his nickname a few times and calmed down, which had Luke thanking the thing’s small memory capacity. It had likely forgotten everything that had distressed it already.
“You can hear its thoughts? Are you sure?” Van sounded oddly invested. For some reason that worried Luke.
“There isn’t much going on in there, but I can hear it.” The noble removed his arms from the creature’s clutches and crossed them haughtily. He’d likely be scolded later for his attitude, but that was fine.
“Luke, can you prove this claim?” Father spoke. If he was asking, that meant there was a chance Luke could keep his replica.
It would be cruel, but he really couldn’t imagine another way to prove there was some bond between them.
He had to do it, there was no reason they’d believe him if he didn’t. “It cries if I shut it out of my head.”
The wall came back up and almost completely muted every sense of Luke’s copy.
Everyone at the table watched as the infantile identical redhead slowly grew more distressed, before it began to throw a full-on tantrum.
Terrified wailing, as though the replica was being held above a pit of a spikes with only a single fraying rope to keep it safe, echoed through the hall.
Luke groaned as his head felt like it was being clawed at by wolves. It hurt. The copy didn’t mean to hurt him. But it couldn’t find him, and thus its mental flailing as it searched for the original was causing the both of them pain.
The young noble held his head between his hands and rested it on the cool table before him. This was worse than it had ever been before. Between the sobbing that was now interspersed with that babbling nickname he’d been given, and the far more desperate agony that hammered at his skull, Luke barely heard his father command him to stop.
Quietly panting, Luke hoped that had been sufficient.
A questioning, anxious whine from beside him roughly translated to, ‘why do you keep leaving?’ heavily paraphrasing, of course. Putting actual words to his replica’s thoughts was difficult, but not impossible.
“I don’t believe that was a coincidence, dear.” The matron of the Fabre household gently placed a hand on her son’s head, which was still planted firmly on the table. Mother was going to help him keep his replica, Luke knew it.
He still felt the echoes of that headache, along with the scraps of unbridled terror his replica had felt. If only it wouldn’t make such a fuss every time he blocked himself off.
“So you’re saying because your replica has some strange attachment to you, you would like to keep it where you can watch it?” Crimson asked. His voice betrayed nothing.
“Yes, father. I can’t say what effects it would have on me if something happened to my replica.”
The greying king spoke up for the first time since Luke had entered the room. “Everyone here is to remain quiet regarding this development. Until we can either find a solution, or come up with some excuse for the public eye to explain why there are now two Luke fon Fabres, not a word of the matter is to leave here.”
The replica climbed into Luke’s lap and remained there, despite the fact that it was just as big as him.
Incoherent yammering inside the boy’s mind told him how happy it was to have him back.
How stupid could the thing get? Luke had never left it in the first place.
The identical redhead leaned back against Luke and paid no mind to the way its fluffy hair found a way into the boy’s mouth. He wasn’t sure if his replica was bathed regularly, and he didn’t know if replicas had any strange spreadable diseases, but he didn’t want to find out.
It was just so . . . content. The thing wanted to be wherever he was and doing whatever he did. Luke didn’t have the heart to push his replica off him after he’d made it hurt so much.
He’d hurt too, but only because he’d made a situation in which it felt like it needed to cause him that pain.
“I may have a solution.” Van mused charismatically.
“What would that be?” Crimson sounded on edge.
“We could claim there have always been two Fabre sons. If the score only mentioned the birth of one, very few people would know that outside of the highest positioned people in the order, as well as the scorers who read Luke’s verse when he was born.”
Van paused, before he smiled to himself. “And if we pass them off as identical twins, no one would bat an eye. They would have come from the same place, and been one child in a very real sense. The score wouldn’t be wrong in that case.” The brunette finished his suggestion confidently, and that seemed to sway the others in the room.
“I wouldn’t mind having two sons, dear. Please think on it.” Susanne gave both Luke and his replica an affectionate pat on the head.
“If we were to go through with this plan, what would we name the replica?” Father asked.
“Actually, what if we were to change Luke’s name instead?” Master Van proposed.
The boy wasn’t sure why his teacher was so insistent on that. He wasn’t going to give up his name. Never.
“And why would we do that?” Crimson huffed, arms crossed.
For once, father was on his side.
With a serious expression, Van stood, and said, “Crimson, a word?”
Maybe there was something in the brunette’s eyes, but the duke reluctantly followed Van to another room, and their conversation was lost on Luke’s ears.
After a moment of silence, Susanne turned to her son and asked, “You can truly hear his thoughts?”
Hopefully this wasn’t a taste of what was to come. The boy had no desire to translate for his double.
“Yes, mother. It sounds like a baby.” Luke wasn’t sure how to impress upon her the sheer amount of aimless noise that entailed.
If only he could block it out.
The replica leaned back onto him even harder, and Luke found his head pinned between the back of his seat, and the copy’s skull.
It had caught on to his slight desire to ‘go away’, and wanted to force the boy to never do such an thing again.
“He, Luke. Not an it.”
“But look! It doesn’t even have half a brain in its head! Can you call something like that human?” His voice was loud, and that made his replica upset, but Luke didn’t care. He wasn’t even sure he was trying to convince Susanne anymore.
The human-creature turned back towards him on Luke’s lap and buried its head into his shoulder.
It wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, but it didn’t like whatever was happening.
“See? You’ve made him upset.” In mother’s voice was a tone that had formerly been reserved for Luke alone. He didn’t want to share that with his replacement.
Still, mother had a point.
Once the moment of uncertainty had passed, hands began to prod curiously at Luke’s face.
His cheeks, chin, a little too close to his right eye. Everywhere.
One thing he’d already noticed, was that his replica seemed to favor its left hand. The boy himself was right-handed, so he didn’t have a clue where that trait had come from.
He could feel it seriously attempting to scope out his face, one bumbling examination at a time.
Susanne chuckled next to Luke. “It’s a wonder he’s so calm now. You truly terrified him with whatever you did earlier.”
“Ever since I realized it was in my head, I’ve been trying to keep it out. Doing that hurts though.” The last was barely above a mumble, but mother caught it regardless.
“You’re hurt?” She scanned what little she could see of her child from around his replica.
“Whenever I block it out, the replica always tries to get back in, and that’s what doesn’t feel pleasant.”
“Please Luke, don’t call him an ‘it’. How would you like it if everyone treated you that way?” Susanne had a point, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to treat his copy just a little bit better. Especially since i-he was going to be staying with them.
The replica finished it- his examination, and tried very hard to verbalize the collection of sounds he called Luke.
Something seemed to click for the duchess at that, who then asked, “Is this what he calls you?”
She’d already raised one child, Luke wasn’t going to underestimate her intuition.
“Yes.”
The woman smiled warmly, and said, “That explains quite a few things. Most of the time, whenever he was crying about something or other, he’d repeat that phrase often. I suppose he was calling for you.”
The boy didn’t tell his mother he knew that already. That he was probably the reason his replica had been crying a lot of the time in the first place.
From the moment his copy had decided to call him something of its own making, he’d known immediately that it was referring solely to him.
Luke wasn’t a fool, he knew his mother was trying to endear him to his replica. She didn’t need to try so hard, though. Not to say he liked his double per se, but with how he was stuck with i-him, it was hard to truly hate the thing.
The bumbling replica didn’t seem aware of his own body in the way he should have been. Luke wondered if that was a side effect of replication. The copy moved his limbs like someone who expected them to be much shorter, more manageable, even. And the manner in which he’d crawled into Luke’s lap hinted that it rather underestimated its-his own height.
Thinking of his replica as a person was going to be difficult.
Just then, the doors to the right opened, before both father and Van strode back in. The brunette looking rather satisfied, while Crimson appeared to be struggling with something that twisted his face like he’d bitten into something sour.
Once the men had sat down, the duke clasped his hands above the table and rumbled, “Luke, you will change your name.”
. . .
What?
Without care for anything else, the boy abruptly leapt from his chair, and sent the replica on his lap crashing painfully to the floor. “Father! You don’t mean that!”
Luke was his name. His.
Why was his master so insistent on changing that?
“Luke, you aren’t yet old enough to understand this, but sometimes, sacrifices must be made for t-“
The young noble felt it seconds before his father had cut himself off. The penalty for Luke’s rash action just a moment earlier had come back to bite him.
It wasn’t as loud as the terrified screaming from before, but the quiet hiccuping that built into low sobbing was heard by all in the room nevertheless.
What was worse was the aching that grew in Luke’s head at the replica’s distress.
His copy wanted him to know that it was in pain, and startled. And on top of that, it-he wanted Luke to do something about that.
So intense was the call for attention, that it felt as though the boy’s skull was splitting.
Susanne put a hand on her child’s shoulder when he hunched over in pain. “Luke? What’s wrong?”
“Make . . . it- stop.” Was eventually ground out through the young noble’s clenched teeth.
He was scared he’d join his mirror image in crying if he opened his mouth. Luke was ten, and he was expected to be mature, collected, even. Whining alongside what was essentially a baby wasn’t going to do him any favors.
But Yulia he wanted to.
The redhead painstakingly kneeled next to his copy and tried to peel the tear-stained mess off the floor.
Luke had to commend the fact that his replacement was at least attempting to speak actual words. The replica just wasn’t quite there yet. All he could do was uselessly mimic the sounds he heard, and that wasn’t quite enough.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry. Quiet down.” At those words, the face that looked like Luke’s turned away from the ground and towards him.
The replica mumbled Luke’s special name, and held a balled hand to his forehead.
When Luke moved that loosely clenched fist away, he was surprised to find a small cut that had definitely broken through skin hidden there. He was torn between understanding why his replica had been so upset, and scoffing at the fact that such a small cut had been the source of all of this fuss.
He’d received injuries ten times worse than that one just trying to get home. They hadn’t even healed yet, which left Luke wondering why nobody bothered mentioning the scratches and bruises.
The pain in the older boy’s head diminished as he gently dabbed at the minuscule cut with a licked thumb. His replica hadn’t understood the gesture at first, but Luke impressed upon him that what he did would make everything better.
Once that mental call for assistance was completely gone, the noble and his mirror image both stood -although Luke was certainly doing most of the work dragging his copy to his feet-, and addressed the table.
Van had a calculating gleam in his eyes that made Luke strangely uncomfortable, whilst father and Ingobert held expressions that appeared to be a mix of confusion and something far more painful to the young noble.
Had the boy’s strange connection unnerved them?
The replica laid his head on Luke’s shoulder comfortingly. At least somebody was on his side in everything.
“Van has suggested a new name for you, and although it pains me to rob you of yours, some day you’ll come to understand why we had to do this.” Crimson’s dark eyes bore into Luke’s and the young noble resisted the urge to pull back.
Gently, small arms wrapped haphazardly around the boy, and he stood trapped in his copy’s embrace.
No-doubt the kind of world-crushing fear Luke felt was responsible for the supportive gesture.
There was still some kind of loosening block between him, and the part of him that needed to accept what was happening. Luke was present and thinking about things, but none of it felt real. Like he was hearing about someone else loosing their name instead.
He knew everything would snap into place eventually though, and that was enough to grow a small, nearly unnoticeable sprout of fear. He couldn’t stop any of the things that had begun happening to him. He’d been kidnapped, replicated, nearly replaced, fought his way home, and now he was loosing his name. Worse still, throughout it all, Luke hadn’t been able to do a thing to keep everything from crumbling underneath him.
His life wasn’t his anymore.
It belonged to all of the people around him that got to make the decisions.
There wasn’t a single thing he could do for himself any longer, and that was the final straw.
A hot tear rolled down Luke’s cheek, followed by one more, and then another. His chest stuttered and heaved as he tried to contain the helpless sobs that battled against rational thought somewhere behind his sternum.
The boy freed a hand from his replica and ran it ferociously across his face, but all that accomplished was smearing the tears everywhere.
He didn’t want to cry. Everyone would think he was childish, and weak, and then he’d really never get to make his own choices.
Susanne cooed as she dragged both Luke and his replica into her embrace. They were both stuttering and hiccuping, though the copy likely didn’t understand why they were so upset.
“It’s okay Luke. Shhh, things will work out. I promise.” Slowly, the woman ran a hand through his hair, but the tender gesture only encouraged more tears to flow.
Ten years old was too late to cry. That was what Luke was always told. He was halfway to manhood, and he needed to learn how to control himself.
B-but he just couldn’t any longer!
It wasn’t about the name, it was everything!
Luke wanted to keep his name, he wanted to decide whether he was taken from his family or not, he just wanted things to stop happening without his not knowing!
Everything was falling apart, but the young noble didn’t even have the agency in his own life to reach out and try to take hold of those fractured pieces.
His cheek was pressed deep into his mother’s lap as Luke body shook. He wanted everything to be over. If they were going to take his name from him, the least they could do was make it quick. He already knew the new one they’d chosen. If Van had a part in it, and he did, then they’d call Luke Asch instead. Like he was some kind of dwindling refuse.
It wasn’t fair!
But since when had anything been fair to Luke?
Fine, let them call him whatever they wanted. He didn’t care.
Luke squeezed his eyes shut, and whispered, “Just say it already.”
He wanted to hear his sentencing. There was no point in dragging things out any further.
The other him still pressed against Luke’s side and trembled sympathetically with every sob. His replica still wasn’t sure what they were upset about, but he knew his original felt bad, and he didn’t want that.
As buzzing words barely filtered through Luke’s ears, his copy tried to comfort him.
Even if the things his replica projected to him weren’t really words, the boy understood the message.
His failed replacement wanted Luke to be happy because they were finally together. Instead of just sensing him from far away, they could see each other, and Luke could make all of his problems go away.
That replica had too much faith in his original. The boy couldn’t even help himself, much less anyone else.
“May I go to my room, mother?” Luke hadn’t really heard whatever the people around him had said, but he didn’t need to. He already knew what his fake name would be, and he just wanted to be alone. Alone with his replica.
The fake him was softly babbling in his head, trying to mimic the tone he’d heard others comfort him in before.
It was a disconcertingly nice gesture.
“That’s fine, dear. I’ll handle the rest of this for you.” Susanne cupped Luke’s face with a pale, fragile hand, before she released him and watched as he left the room.
After the young noble’s outburst, nobody at the table seemed inclined to keep him from retreating to his chambers, mirror image pressed closely to his side.
Luke didn’t even mind his replica leaning on him for support as they walked. It was something he could do for himself, and that small taste of agency was so badly needed his eyes stung and his chest ached.
Once hidden away in his room, the boy pulled himself up onto his bed and didn’t cry.
He did have trouble breathing, though.
But it wasn’t because he was crying.
Luke hunched over his pillows, and flinched as a warm body came to rest partially on top of his.
With limbs that he didn’t know how to properly control, the human imposter gently tapped Luke’s back with a hand, and tried to make him feel better.
The young redhead turned away from his pillow and dragged his copy into his arms. It gave a startled squeak, but settled into the desperate embrace nonetheless. Luke wanted to squeeze something, someone. He wanted to hear that calming, identical heartbeat, and tuck his head safely into the crook of his would-be replacement’s neck.
The infant with a body too big for him to properly understand just liked being held. And he liked the way the most important person in the world to him felt less sad doing so.
Luke wasn’t sure how long he stayed with his replica, nearly strangling him with the intensity of his embrace, but that didn’t matter. This was one moment he could have to himself before his life was fully wrested from his control, and he wanted to drag it out for as long as possible.